Unsalvageable
by LoveBugOC
Summary: 'You can't save me Granger.' 'But I can try, can't I' And he lets her.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. (However I would like very much to own a certain Draco Malfoy).

A/N: First thing's first, I want to thank everyone who has read and/reviewed my last story _Twisted Love Story,_ it means a whole bunch! Second, the following story is also sort of dark with some angst, but also sort of fluffy and cute. I think so, anyway.

Warning: contains alcohol abuse, some swearing and some sexual content. (this is my first REAL attempt at an actual smut, just FYI)

Enjoy

* * *

><p><em><strong>Unsalvageable<strong>_

_'You can't save me Granger.' 'But I can try, can't I?' And he lets her._

X

xOnex

It's a rainy, windy, and truly depressing night in London, reflecting the blond man's attitude sitting at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron. He's well aware of the stares he's receiving and the whisperings going on behind him as he knocks back shot after shot, but he's become so accustomed to it every day that it doesn't even faze him. As long as he's got his bill running on a tab and constant flow of alcohol at his fingers he's happy.

This is what Draco Malfoy has become. A drunk. A depressed fool, living in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. Malfoys are known for their poise and their elegance and yet there's nothing elegant about him. Not anymore. Next to the downfall of the Dark Lord (what's it been, two years?), the downfall of the Malfoy empire, along with the name and every Malfoy related witch or wizard, was the most celebrated event in Wizarding history.  
>The end of the war brought freedom for every witch and wizard in the Wizarding World, just as long as you were fighting for the right side of course. If you were Light, or a part of the Order, then any wrong-doings you may have done during the war were immediately pardoned. If you were a Death Eater however, or someone like Draco who was forced into doing what he did, you were tried (in his case for months on end) for every wrong-doing, illegal thing you've ever done and then sentenced accordingly. Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to a lifetime (and more) in solitary confinement in Azkaban for his crimes; his aunt and many others received the same sentence. Narcissa Malfoy was given the Kiss for her involvement, having claimed and proved that while she played a part in the war, she wasn't a Death Eater. (His father had never let her take the mark, officially). Draco Malfoy, however, was a far more complex situation. He was 16 at the time of his initiation into the Death Eater circle and therefore was not considered a willing participant-his father had, after all, forced him into it 'for the good of the Wizarding world'. And while he had watched people being killed and tortured, he had never personally done the acts of such horrid things. His trial had lasted months. Months which he spent in his own cell in Azkaban. While there was physical evidence linking him to the Dark Lord, the Mark being one of them, there was no proof that he had actually participated in any of the Death Eater raids or killing sprees. And so, due to lack of evidence, at the age of 19, Draco Malfoy was pardoned of all of his charges. He became, essentially, a free man.<br>And yet 'free' is not something Draco would consider himself. The word 'free' does not exist in his vocabulary. Because no matter how 'free' he is, everybody still looks at him the same. Like he's a murderer. Like he's his father. And that is something he would rather not talk about...

It's been four months since he was released from Azkaban. Everyday for the first month, he spent inside; refusing to leave his house (which is ironically the last place he wants to be), afraid to face the world and the media outside. Halfway through the second month he had ventured to Diagon Alley do some shopping only to be bombarded with cameras and journalists; when he returned home later that day, he told himself he would never leave the house again. He rediscovered alcohol on the first of the third month; he was drunk for five days straight after that. In fact a lot of the last month he's spent drunk and therefore he doesn't remember a whole hell of a lot. What he does remember, however, is running out of alcohol of all kinds in the cellar, thinking it completely unacceptable, and apparating to the Leaky Cauldron. He doesn't know why he chooses this place in particular, but it's the only place that comes to mind.  
>And now here he is, four hours later, still drunk. Still depressed. Still perfectly okay...<br>The bartender, however, has a quite different idea. "You're not okay mate. Let me call you a cab-"  
>"I don't need a cab, I need another drink," the blonde scoffs.<br>"I understand that but-"  
>"Well then do it," he demands.<br>The man behind the counter shakes his head and holds his ground. "I can't. Either you let me call you a cab, or you call one yourself."  
>"Fine. But just so you know, I am not happy," Draco grumbles.<br>"You weren't happy when you got here either, what's your point?"  
>"True. That's true."<br>The jingle sound that the door makes when it opens sounds louder in his ears than he's sure it should. Out of instinct more than anything, he turns his head to see who it is. There are three of them, and he knows all of them-too well. Potter sees him first, his face blank. Then Weasley spots him, scowling at him, and Draco sneers back. Granger is the last to notice him and it could just be his drunk imagination, but there's a faint sort of _sympathy_ in her eyes. And he hates it. He hates the angry glares and the spiteful taunts, but he hates those bloody sympathy looks even more.  
>And this, he decides, is his cue to leave.<br>He turns back to the bartender, throws some money on the table, and steps (rather clumsily) off the chair. He stumbles then, catching his balance on the rather large and bulky fellow sitting beside him. He mutters an apology as the man turns around to face him, his face red in anger. He chuckles drunkenly. "That's a good look for you, mate."  
>"What did you call me?"<br>"Nothing-"  
>"You called me mate."<br>"Yeah, my mistake-"  
>"You got that right, <em>mate<em>!"  
>All of a sudden, quicker than he can react, the man grabs him by his shirt and shoves him against the bar. His head snaps back on his neck, sending an intense sort of pain through his spine and into his head. And then, even quicker than that, the man's fist connects with his face, sending another, stinging pain through his jaw. The room is spinning now, as the man grabs him by the shirt again and throws him on the ground. His head connects violently with the floor and he's vaguely aware of the metal taste in his mouth and the fact that the man is now using him as a punching bag. And he embraces it. He embraces the punches and the kicks. He embraces the pain. It stings and it shoots through his body in the best way.<br>People are yelling all around him, some cheering and some trying to stop it. He has half a mind to tell the man to keep going, though, as he feels the darkness taking over. And then all of a sudden it stops and although he can't bring himself to open his eyes, he can hear a familiar, feminine voice screaming at the man to stop. He wants to tell her to just let him but he doesn't have the energy. His whole world is getting darker and darker and the voices of the people around him are beginning to fade.  
>And they continue to fade, until the darkness completely takes over.<p>

X

"Stop it! Stop-get off him! Ron!"

"Harry, help me get him up."  
>"Where should we take him? St Mungo's?"<p>

"Just put him in my room."  
>"What about you?"<p>

"Malfoy.."

His head is pounding when he comes too. He has yet to open his eyes, but the room is already spinning. He tries to move, to shift his position onto his side, but he hurts too much. He groans, opening his eyes-which is a lot harder than he anticipated. He doesn't recognize his surroundings, not even a little bit, and the realization forces him into a sitting position on a bed he's pretty sure he doesn't belong in. (Not that that's ever mattered before). Wincing in pain, he clutches his head as it throbs and he closes his eyes tightly. His entire body is in pain.  
>The door opens then, allowing a ray of light into the room and he groans again as it burns his eyes even behind his closed eyelids.<br>"You're awake…"  
>He recognizes that voice. "Granger?" He squints to look at her, and sure enough it's Granger.<br>"Malfoy."  
>"Uh...where am I?" His voice is hoarse, his throat dry. He leans forward, his face in his hands.<br>"My flat. Here, drink this." She hands him a glass and he takes it in his hands, swirling the purple liquid around before knocking it back. His face scrunches in distaste as it slides down his throat.  
>"Bloody hell Granger that's awful! What are you trying to do, kill me?" He wonders loudly. He immediately regrets raising his own voice as the pounding in his head intensifies.<br>"It can't be any worse than what you did to yourself last night," she mutters, moving around the room.  
>"I beg to differ."<br>"Do you want some tea?"  
>"No."<br>"Water?"  
>"No."<br>She sighs loudly. "Do you want anything?"  
>"Got any beer, or fire whiskey?" He asks, pushing his hands through his hair.<br>"Yeah, 'cause that's just what you need the morning after," she replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes.  
>"So that's a no?"<br>"That's a no." She turns to leave then, leaving him to his own devices.  
>"What am I doing here?" he asks her before she leaves.<br>"We couldn't get into your house."  
>He watches her leave and stays sitting on her bed for a few more minutes before pushing himself to his feet (rather slowly). He's fully dressed, which is a good sign, he supposes. He bends down to put on his shoes and a stinging sensation rips through his torso. He grunts, holding it as he straightens himself out. He doesn't remember a whole hell of a lot from last night and he wants answers. And it seems that the only person, who can give them to him, is Granger. He pushes himself forward, shuffling his feet lazily across the hard wood floor. He finds himself in the hallway and he stops, taking in his surroundings, before following the smell of bacon. She's in the kitchen, cooking what he assumes is breakfast, when he walks in. "What time is it?"<br>"Nine o'clock."  
>"And why did you bring me here?"<br>She sighs, turning to face him with a sort of knowing, annoyed look on her face. "As I said before, we couldn't get into your house, so we brought you here-"  
>"Potter and Weasley?" He guesses, making his disdain for them known.<br>"Yes. And all that pain you're feeling, in your arms and your chest? That's because you decided to get especially drunk and let yourself get beat up by a guy twice your size. I managed to heal most of the cuts and bruises, and your broken rib, but it's still tender," she informs him, like it's the most natural thing in the world.  
>"Obviously."<br>"Look you don't have to thank me, I wouldn't expect you to anyway, but the least you could do is stop yourself from being so rude."  
>"I didn't ask you bring me here Granger. I didn't ask for your help," he reminds her.<br>"You didn't have to."  
>She turns away from him, tending to her sizzling bacon once more.<br>"Right, well, thanks." He mutters, clearing his throat uncomfortably.  
>"Do you always drink like that?" she asks. This time her voice is soft and legitimately curious. "Like what?"<br>"To the point where you blackout Malfoy. To the point where you let someone beat the shit out of you."  
>He considers her question, and then his answer. Does he tell her the truth? Does he tell her how GOOD it felt to receive such pain? "I should go…" He makes to leave, walking through the kitchen, prepared to pretend like none of this ever happened.<br>"Go where? Back to the Leaky Cauldron? To the liquor store to get some more fire whiskey?"  
>If he didn't know any better he's think that she actually cared. "See you around Granger. Although probably not," he adds as an after thought.<p>

X

When he returns home, he finds that he doesn't know what to do with himself. It's dark and it's cold and it's lonely. It reminds him too much of his cell in Azkaban. And when he thinks about where he is and why he doesn't want to be here, he finds that he would much rather be confined to a cell. This house holds nothing but memories. Memories of a bad childhood and an even worse adolescence. Memories of the war, of death and of torture. Perhaps it's his alcohol deprived mind playing tricks on him, but as he walks around the house (as though giving him a reason to pick up another drink) memory after memory comes flooding back; like a slideshow. The staircase, where his father pushed him against the wall and yelled at him because his grades weren't as good as the Mudbloods. The living room, where his father hit his mother for the first time. The sitting room, where his aunt tortured Granger over and over and over; carved the word 'mudblood' into her arm. The dining room, where he was forced to watch the Dark Lords pet snake devour his Muggle Studies teacher. The dungeons, where his family held his classmate Luna Lovegood and the wand maker for weeks upon weeks. Everywhere he turns, a bad memory surfaces and every time he closes his eyes he_ sees_ it. He sees it and it disgusts him. His past disgusts him. Who he is disgusts him. He hates who is.  
>And the alcohol...the alcohol makes it just a little bit more bearable; the glares, the scowls, the talking and whispering. It numbs the feelings he doesn't want to feel, and heightens the ones he does. It helps him forget and he craves it; needs it.<br>He makes a decision that morning.


	2. Chapter 2

xTwox

Hermione Granger is worried. It's been six days since Malfoy woke up in her flat, six days since he left and she hasn't seen or heard from him since. She's sent owls to check up on him and make sure he was alright, all of which have gone unanswered and been returned. She had even swung by Malfoy Manor yesterday, only to be greeted with a 'Sold' and 'No Trespassing' sign on the gate. And for some reason, unbeknownst to her, it worried her even more. She's asked around plenty since then, but got little to none in answers-mostly because nobody could care less about him. And she should be one of them. She has every reason in the world to hate him, to not care about his well-being. And had it not been for the night at the bar last week, where he seemed to be all too happy to be receiving blow after blow by the man trying to kill him, she probably wouldn't. But something happened that night, and seeing him so fragile and wounded and careless, had really gotten to her. She'd been afraid for his life. In that moment he wasn't the prat at school who called her names and verbally tortured her day after day, he wasn't the guy who had watched his aunt torture her in his sitting room and he wasn't the Death Eater who had been let off for lack of evidence. He was a man, getting beat up by a man twice his size, seemingly all too happy to embrace it. (She'd seen the smile, bloody and broken, even as the man kept punching him in the face). She couldn't just sit by and watch. So she made Ron help make the guy stop and she made Harry help her get him to his feet and she made both of them help her take him back to her house. They didn't understand why it mattered to her and in all honestly neither did she.  
>She still doesn't.<br>When he left the next morning, it was under a mutual understanding that they wouldn't see each other again. And that should've been okay with her. She should've just let it go. She should have taken her victory from saving his life and healing his wounds and left it at that. But she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling and wanting to know if he was okay. She was worried in a way that a friend would worry for another friend, and yet he is not a friend. He's no longer an enemy, but he isn't a friend either.  
>It shouldn't have surprised her, she thinks, that he was as drunk as he was. She'd heard rumors; he was wallowing in self-pity, he was drinking gallons upon gallons of alcohol a day, he was more than gladly allowing his life to fall apart around him. But not once did she think they were true. Not once did she think that Draco Malfoy-the same confident and snarky Draco Malfoy she knew at school-had fallen from grace so...badly. And that, she reckons, worries her more than anything.<br>"Mione!"  
>The sound of someone calling her name pulls her out of her thoughts and she looks up from her desk in her ministry office to find Harry standing in the doorway.<br>"Harry! Did you get it?" She exclaims excitedly.  
>"I did. Are you gonna tell me why I had to?" He wonders, for she's been quite mysterious lately. He hands her a file and she opens it to see all of the information she has been looking for and a picture of Draco Malfoy looking back at her.<br>"I'm just...worried about him, that's all."  
>"Malfoy? You're worried about Malfoy?" the raven haired man snorts.<br>"You saw him the other night Harry." She looks up from the file, straight at him. It's written all over her face, that much is obvious.  
>"I did, but I don't think it's your responsibility-"<br>She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "I know, I know. I just...I can't shake it. I have to see that he's okay."  
>Harry rolls his eyes, showing his displeasure and yet he can't help but smile at his best friend. "You're too good sometimes Hermione."<br>She smiles, "I know."

X

When she gets out of the taxi in front of the building written down on the piece of paper in her hand, she has to pinch herself to ensure that she isn't dreaming. When she asked Harry to find him she was expecting him to be in some upper class, high-end pent house or something of the sort. He is Draco Malfoy after-all. But the building in front of her is anything but; it's stingy and dirty. She almost doesn't want to go inside, but her genuine curiousity and worry gets the best of her. Could he really be that bad off? The answer to that, she decides as she walks inside, is yes.  
>The inside looks (and smells) even worse than the outside. The floor is dirty, the walls are water-stained and the ceiling looks as though it could fall in at any moment. It's a motel, is what it is, but more than that it's disgusting. Surely Draco Malfoy could do better than this.<br>She walks up to the front desk and the fat man behind the glass gives her a very suggestive once over; she struggles to swallow the bile in her throat. "Um, hi, I'm looking for Draco Malfoy?"  
>The man just stares at her and she shifts uncomfortably. "A friend of mine said I could find him here," she tells him.<br>The man still continues to stare at her.  
>"Look..." she trails off, straining to read his name tag. "Max...he's an old friend of mine, okay? And I'm worried about him. So if you could just give me a room number, I'll be on my way." She's only half lying, and that doesn't count, right?<br>"Seven."  
>"Thank you." She spins on her heel, walking quickly down the hall opposite the front desk. When she reaches room number 7 she hesitates, biting her lip, before raising her fist and knocking. And then she waits. And waits. And waits. She sighs, knocking again. Almost immediately after, she hears a bit of stumbling and mumbling behind the door.<br>"Ow...who is it?" The voice inside isn't anything like she remembers. It's hoarse and tired and slurred.  
>"Housekeeping," the brunette replies, knowing full well that he wouldn't answer the door if he knew the truth.<br>The door opens then, revealing a less than graceful looking Draco Malfoy. His hair is shaggy and greasy and dull, not at all the perfection it used to be. He's got a five o'clock shadow, untrimmed and rough looking across his jaw. And his clothes are ratty and ragged-an old white t-shirt with rips and tears and a pair of stained sweatpants. He looks awful and smells like alcohol. She hardly even recognizes the man before her.  
>Draco looks at her, swaying on his legs as he uses the door to hold him upright. "You are not housekeeping Granger," he decides.<br>"I honestly doubt this place even has housekeeping," she mutters her response as she invites herself in, knowing she won't get an invitation otherwise.  
>"C'mon in Granger, make yourself at home." His voice is laced with sarcasm as he closes the door behind her and then stumbles forward after her. "To what do I owe this displeasure Granger? And how in the world did you find me?"<br>"I have my ways," she shrugs.  
>"Let me guess. Potter and his Auror skills?<br>She chooses to ignore his stab at her best friend, and instead looks around the room she's in. She almost forgets why she's here. "This place is a mess Malfoy," she tells him looking around at all of the empty beer bottles and fire whiskey bottles. |When was the last time you drank something other than alcohol? You smell like a pub."  
>"Dunno." He mutters his response, disappearing into the kitchen and then emerging with yet another bottle of beer.<br>She looks at him properly now. At the way his cheeks have sunken in and his collarbones stick out. And even through his baggy clothes, she can see how skinny he's become. It's beginning to scare her, this Malfoy. "When was the last time you ate something nutritious?"  
>He snorts, rolling his eyes as he brings the bottle to his lips and tilts his head back, relishing in the taste and feel of the liquid sliding down his throat. "Who do you think you are, my mother?" Then, as though he's just realized what he said, his eyes cloud over becoming darker (if at all possible) and takes another swig. Hermione stands in the would-be living room awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably on her feet as she watches him. She wants to ask him if he even knows what time of day it, or at least point out the fact that its only 4 o'clock in the afternoon but she doesn't.<br>"What are you doing here?" "I..I was worried about you," she replies softly, suddenly becoming increasingly aware of how silly that sounds.  
>"Worried...why?"<br>"I don't know," she whispers, more to herself than to him. "I just...I went by the Manor and you weren't there, nothing was there. So I asked Harry to find you-"  
>"Knew it," he mumbles, rolling his eyes.<br>"Why are you _here_ Malfoy?"  
>"Because I couldn't stay <em>there<em>." His voice is barely louder than a whisper as he takes another swig. Hermione frowns. She's got her own fair share of memories in that house, she doesn't even want to imagine what sort of things he had witnessed as a child growing up there. "You couldn't find somewhere more...tasteful?" she wonders.  
>"Why? Do you disapprove of my living quarters Granger?" he asks, a hint of his taunting-self shining through.<br>"Yes."  
>"Well that's too bad."<br>"Malfoy, look at this place! It's a dump-"  
>"And so what? I'd rather be here, than there anyway!" he yells defensively. Who does this mad woman think she is?<br>"I'm just...I'm just trying to help-"  
>"I don't need your help! I don't <em>want<em> your help!"  
>"Fine.. I'll go. I'll let you wallow in your self-pity and your precious alcohol," she snaps, glaring at him.<br>He glares back, best he can through heavy eyelids. "Good."  
>"Great."<br>"Brilliant."  
>She huffs, spinning on her heel and leaving through the front door. She slams it behind her, causing the walls to shake and for a minute she's sort of expecting the door to come off its hinges. She turns to leave, but something makes her stop. Her pride, perhaps; the Gryffindor within her refuses. She spins back around and marches right back inside, slamming the door again behind her. He's sitting on the couch, looking at her with a sort of drunk, amused look on his face; like he was waiting for her.<br>"Back so soon?" He taunts. "Knew you wouldn't actually leave Granger, your Gryffindorness is far too strong. Idiotic, and completely uncalled for, but strong."  
>She ignores him, pulling her wand out of her bag and with a flick of her wrist all of the debris around the living room disappears.<br>"Hm, thanks for that. I must've forgotten I was a wizard."  
>She continues to ignore him as she walks into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she isn't at all surprised to see it nearly empty-although she is disappointed. Aside from a few bottles of water and a few dishes of old meat and bread, the fridge is mostly full of beer. Sighing loudly, she walks back into the living room, a look of determination etched onto her face. "I can't believe you don't even have any food Malfoy, do you know how utterly irresponsible that is? It's ridiculous! Especially considering the amount of alcohol you've been consuming-"<br>"And how would you know how much alcohol I've been consuming?" he counters.  
>"I can smell it! I've seen you twice in the last week and both times you've been drunk! Whatever you think it's helping, you're wrong. It's only making it worse-"<br>He leans forward, shaking his head and looking her straight in the face. "That's where you're wrong Granger. You have no idea what is going on my head. You haven't a clue what it's like."  
>She blinks, taken aback by his forwardness. He takes another swig of the bottle, polishing it off easily before leaning forward and holding it out for her to take. "I'm not your servant."<br>"Very well, I'll get myself another," he slurs, struggling to push himself to his feet.  
>"Will you stop this?" she screeches, not caring if his head hurts in the morning. She pushes him back down when he tries to stand up and snatches the bottle from him disapprovingly. "You need to eat something, this is enough."<br>With another flick of her wand, she conjures up a plate of food-lots of food-and shoves it against his chest. His hands come up to hold it and she disappears into the kitchen once more to get him some water.  
>"What was that about not being my servant Granger?" he snickers.<br>She scowls at him, throwing the bottle of water onto the couch beside him. "Eat it," she demands.  
>"You're bossy."<br>"Eat."  
>He does as he's told, albeit grudgingly, shoveling the food into his mouth as though he hasn't eaten in weeks, which is probably true. She stands there the whole time, watching and waiting. Only when he finishes does he actually react. He feels sick to his stomach, whether it be from the fact that he ate so quickly or because it's the first thing he's put into his stomach with actual nutrients in weeks, he's not sure. But within minutes of finishing his meal he stumbles to his feet and down the short hallway into the bathroom before dropping to his knees in front of the toilet and emptying the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Granger seems to have followed him, he realizes vaguely, as places a cool cloth on the back of his neck and offers him the bottle of water she had thrown at him just minutes earlier. He takes it, and when he's done he gulps down the entire thing. It soothes his throat, and he decides that he'd prefer the burning sensation of alcohol going down to that of it coming back up. He's breathing heavily as he leans back against the bathtub behind him, completely spent and weak.<br>"Are you okay?" she asks. Her voice is softer now, like a mother tending to her hurt child.  
>"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" his voice is scratchy and it hurts to talk.<br>"Because I want to."  
>"So what, I'm your charity case now? Since everything else is right in the world you've got nothing better to do than <em>help<em> poor, broken Draco Malfoy, is it?" He asks bitterly. "Or do you just secretly enjoy seeing me like this?"  
>"I don't enjoy it," she whispers.<br>"Right.. I'll tell you what Granger. Everyone else seems to enjoy it, it would do you best to do the same."  
>"Let me be the judge of that, will you?"<br>He rolls his eyes, "see, this is why I don't like Gryffindors. You're far too stubborn for your own damn good."  
>"I'll take that as a compliment. Now c'mon, I'll help you get cleaned up. You look like you could use some sleep."<br>Within a few minutes she gets him into his bedroom, which is really just a pull out bed in the living room. She wants to make a joke about it, Draco Malfoy Slytherin Prince sleeping on the couch, but he's half passed out and half angry so she keeps her mouth shut. She tidies up around the living room, picking up clothes and such and disposing of them where they belong. And when he finally does pass out, she lifts the sheets-which look like they're about one hundred years old-up to his chest. He almost looks perfect, sleeping there on his side, sort of angel an like. Or a child. Before she leaves she gathers all of the beer bottles from the fridge and everywhere else, as well as a few bottles of vodka and fire whiskey and she shrinks them all before tossing them into her bag. He'll be angry in the morning, she knows, when he realizes that he doesn't have any alcohol, but at least then he won't be able to get drunk first thing.


	3. Chapter 3

xThreex

When Draco Malfoy wakes up the next morning, his head isn't as sore as it normally is. Nor is his body for that matter. And for the first time in a long time he remembers the night-or rather evening-before, mostly, he figures, because Granger made him eat. And then throw up. And then somewhere between throwing up and passing out, she'd helped him clean himself up before putting him to bed. He was angry, that she was treating him like a child, but he hadn't had the energy to argue with her. So he let her.  
>There's something about her he doesn't understand. He hasn't seen her for years since the war ended. She had never gone to his trial, she had never sought him out and he had never even thought about her. And now, all of a sudden, she cares. And he can't figure out why. Nobody else cares, why would she? He was awful to her in school, perhaps more awful to her than most because she was (and clearly still is) Potters little side kick. So why should she care about his wellbeing? Why does she care about what he is or isn't doing to himself? As far as he's concerned she shouldn't, it shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter to her what happens to him. More importantly she shouldn't waste her time. He has no intentions of changing because as far as he's concerned there isn't any hope left for him. There isn't enough hope in the world to help him.<p>

For the first time in weeks, his mind is clear. For the first time in weeks he can hear his own thoughts clearly and precisely and he hates it. He hates listening to the voices in his head; the screaming and the crying. And this...this is why he doesn't stay sober, why he can't stay sober. Because when he's drunk, the voices go away and the screaming stops and he doesn't feel like a Death Eater. Like a monster. Like someone who isn't even worth the gum on the bottom of ones shoes. The alcohol numbs the pain and the senses and brings relief. And that is what he needs. Not water, not food. Not help.  
>He climbs off the bed; it takes less effort than most days, and he walks across the small apartment to the kitchen. He pulls open the fridge and when he reaches for a beer he's surprised to find them all gone. Surely he didn't drink THAT much... Although, who is he to be the judge of that? He moves to the cupboard where he keeps England's finest vodka only to find that gone too. And the fire whiskey, and the regular whiskey. And he <em>knows<em> that he didn't drink that much last night. He groans loudly, because it's physically hurting right now, as he tries to think. Thinkthinkthink. And then it makes sense. Granger was here last night. Granger was here AFTER he passed out. Granger must have taken his alcohol with her in an attempt to keep him from drinking. A sort of defensive and very, very obsessive anger washes over him as he rips himself away from the kitchen counter and out of his flat.  
>A certain witch has a certain price to pay.<p>

X

Hermione wakes up, not only to a bright and sunny day in London, but also to two of her favourite boys sitting on her living room couch watching early morning cartoons and eating their significant breakfast that they had picked up on the way over. Just like every other Saturday morning. She smiles warmly at them as she walks over and collects her own, still wrapped in the bag to keep it warm. "Morning."  
>"Morning 'Mione," Harry greets her with a brief warm smile.<br>She sits in between them on the couch and opens her bagel, placing it on her lap before taking a sip of her tea. She can feel Harry's gaze on her, but Ron is far too interested in the cartoon currently running on the television to care.  
>"So did you take care of that problem?" Harry asks curiously.<br>"For now. I'm not sure how long it'll last though."  
>"I think Malfoy is a lost cause Hermione-"<br>"Malfoy? What about Malfoy?" Ron wonders.  
>Hermione might have laughed at the fact that Malfoy's name always seems to pull Ron out of any situation, had it not been for the complete tone of distain in his voice. "Harry found Malfoy yesterday."<br>Ron shrugs, taking a large bite of his bagel. "Didn't know he was lost."  
>"And I went to see him."<br>The redhead pauses, mid-chew. "Why?"  
>"Because I was worried about him.. When he left the morning after we brought him back here he was more hung over than I'd ever seen anyone and yet he was still looking for something to drink. He just...looked awful. And then when I swung by the manor nobody was there and there was a sold sign so I asked Harry to find out where he went. The place is a dive, by the way. Completely disgusting," she informs them, her nose scrunching with distaste.<br>"Who cares? It's just Malfoy-"  
>"I care, Ron."<br>"Why?"  
>"I'm still trying to figure that out…" she trails off quietly. "It's just...he's all alone, you know? Both of his parents are…gone and he doesn't have anybody else."<br>"Maybe he likes it that way," Harry suggests.  
>"That's probably because he doesn't know any different," Hermione whispers.<br>"I still don't understand what the big deal is. The guy's a git-"  
>There's a sudden pounding on the door, before an angry 'GRANGER' bellows throughout the living room, and probably the hallway. Harry and Ron look at her skeptically and she sighs, knowing exactly who it is. "Both of you need to behave," she responds sternly.<br>"GRANGER!"  
>She pushes herself to her feet and crosses the small-ish living room to the front door.<br>"GRAN-"  
>She pulls the door open and he stops yelling in the middle of her name. His gaze narrows at her angrily, his eyes dark and dangerous. He pushes past her, much like the way she had the day before. "Malfoy."<br>"You have a hell of a lot of nerve Granger! Who the fuck do you think you are?"  
>"Oh c'mon-"<br>"If you wanted one you could've just asked, you didn't have to take the whole damn fridge!" His voice resembles that of a growl as he walks into her kitchen. He doesn't even notice Harry or Ron, and if he does he doesn't pay much attention. When he can't find his alcohol anywhere he comes back out, fuming. "Where is it?"  
>"The fact that you're getting this angry just goes to show-"<br>"Do you think I give a fuck what that shows? How many times do I have to tell you I don't need your damn help? When is that gonna get through your thick skull?" he snaps, glaring holes through her.  
>"Look, Malfoy-"<br>"I didn't come here for small talk, I came here to get back what you took from me. So where is it?"  
>"Bloody hell Hermione, what did you take?" Ron asks from behind her.<br>Draco looks past her shoulder to see her two sidekicks sitting on the couch. "Potter and Weasley...fantastic," he mutters sarcastically.  
>"I only took it to prove that you don't need it."<br>"Yeah well the only thing you proved was that I do."  
>She shakes her head. "You only think you do-"<br>"Think I do, know I do, what's the difference?"  
>"Why don't you just go buy some more?" Ron suggests, clearly not happy that the blonde is still there.<br>"Why don't you just mind your business Weaslebee-"  
>"Hey, c'mon-Ron I told you to behave," Hermione reminds her friend.<br>Draco is in front of her now, his back to her friends as he looks down at her intently.  
>"Please Granger…" he whispers.<br>She looks up at him and the desperation she hears in his voice and sees in his eyes scares her. It upsets her. And she knows she shouldn't enable him, but she can't keep it from him either. Not only is it not her place, but he looks SO desperate and broken than she has to give it back. She looks away, unable to take his gaze on her; she can feel it burning through her. "They're in my bag, behind the door."  
>He nods and without hesitation he walks towards the front door. He finds the bag-her magical bag-behind the door and picks it up, stuffing it into the pocket of his sweat pants. He's got half a mind to thank her, but chooses not to.<br>She can't bring herself to turn around as he leaves. She can't bring herself to watch. And so she stands in the middle of the living room with her back to the door, waiting for it to close. It takes longer than she expected for the latch to click, and when it does she finds herself letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.  
>"I like him better when he's drunk."<br>"Ronald!" She frowns disapprovingly at him before snatching her coffee off of the table and leaving the boys alone; her appetite is ruined.

X

It takes him less than an hour to find his drunkeness with a mixture of beer, whiskey and vodka. It takes two hours for him to begin to stumble and slur his words. And it takes three hours to realize that something-or rather someone-is missing. Granger. Granger and her know-it-all, goody-good, over bearing, over caring self. He sort of...misses her. Sort of. He sort of misses the way she walks around like she owns the place and cleans up after him. He sort of misses the way she scolds him for doing something that's so natural for him now. And the way she _cares_ even though she shouldn't, even though she doesn't know why.  
>He misses her company, even if it's only been for a couple hours. He misses talking to her, even if it's a just petty argument or a few words here and there. He misses having human contact.<p>

X

She tries really hard to ignore the voice in her head telling her to go back to the dump and check up on him. She tries even harder to ignore the way her chest feels tight when she thinks of him getting himself into trouble. Neither Ron nor Harry can understand her obsession with it, but then neither does she. It's like this fierce protectiveness has fallen over her. She spends all afternoon pretending she isn't thinking about him, pretending that that look of utter desperation on his face and in his eyes isn't haunting her.

It's seven o'clock in the evening when she decides to go. It's late enough that he won't know that she's been thinking about him all day, and early enough to…well she's not sure of that part yet. She walks into the building, holding her breath, as she nods at Max on the way down the hall to Draco's room. She knocks on the door, waiting patiently for him to open it. Again, she hears stumbling and mumbling from inside before the door opens to reveal an inebriated Draco Malfoy. It doesn't surprise her in the least, but it stings.  
>Draco grins drunkenly at her, moving aside wordlessly to let her in. "I knew you wouldn't stay away Granger."<br>She bites her lip as she enters the tiny flat. It looks a lot like it did last night, the only difference being the amount of bottles scattered across the room. She frowns, pulling her wand out of her jacket and flicking her wrist to make them disappear. "Did you eat?"  
>"Had a slice of pizza," he tells her proudly, like it's his biggest accomplishment.<br>"How long ago?"  
>"Long."<br>"How long have you been drinking?"  
>"Now Granger, you don't really need me to answer that do you?"<br>She sighs loudly, sadly. "Malfoy this isn't good for you."  
>His only response is a shrug of his shoulders as he knocks back another sip of beer. She continues to tidy up around them, and only then does she realize that he's wearing the same clothes from yesterday. "You haven't changed."<br>He looks down at himself before chuckling softly. "I suppose not. Good eye Granger! You deserve a drink for that-"  
>"No."<br>"Alright then, a toast!" He knocks back another sip, tilting his head back so far that it knocks him off balance and he falls flat onto the floor. His body lands with a thud, and yet he doesn't feel it.  
>Hermione sighs, flinching at the sound before bending down to help him up. Once she gets him standing she pulls the bottle from his fingers.<br>"W-what are you doing?" he slurs, sounding like a small child afraid of punishment.  
>"You need to clean yourself up."<br>"I think I'll be the judge of that-"  
>"Now, Malfoy. Quite being so completely idiotic!" She pulls him down the short hallway to the bathroom and pushes him inside.<br>"Oi! What are you trying to do, wound me?"  
>"Nah, you've got that covered quite perfectly."<br>Without another word she peels his shirt off over his head and tosses it on the ground before pushing his sweatpants off of his hips. They fall into a puddle on the floor around his feet, leaving him in a pair of boxers. And only then does she realize the intimacy of the situation. She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she looks him over. He's thin, much thinner than she remembers him being in school.  
>"Thinking naughty thoughts aren't you Granger?"<br>Her gaze snaps up to his face then and he's smirking down at her. "Just get in the shower Malfoy."  
>"You're not gonna start it for me?"<br>"Now you're just taking advantage-"  
>"If I was taking advantage of you, you'd know it Granger," he says seductively.<br>She blinks, taken aback. "Just...do it yourself."  
>With that being said she spins on her heel and leaves him alone in the bathroom. She doesn't leave him <em>alone<em>, however, because she sits out in the hallway across from the door to wait for him; to make sure that nothing else happens.  
>He's in the shower for about ten minutes before she hears the water stop. She pushes herself to her feet and then leans her back against the wall, waiting for him. When he emerges, he stops to look at her. "Happy?" He looks drained again, like he's about to pass out. His eyes are drooping, like he's having a hard time keeping them open.<br>"You should get some sleep."  
>He nods, and she swallows her surprise as she follows him into the living room. The bed is already pulled out; he mustn't have put it back this morning. He crawls onto the bed, lying flat on his stomach with arms limp at his sides.<br>"Why does this matter so much to you?" he asks in a soft, tentative voice.  
>"Honestly?"<br>"Yes…"  
>She sighs, sitting on the edge of the hard mattress. "My aunt had a drinking problem. It nearly destroyed her life before she got help. I just...I don't want to see that happen to you…"<br>"You should, everyone else does."  
>"I don't."<br>"Not that it matters, my life has already been destroyed," he mutters.  
>"That's not true-"<br>"Do me a favour Granger? If you're gonna help me, against my will, don't lie to me. You know damn well that it is true."  
>"It doesn't have to be," she whispers.<br>He falls silent, turning his head away from her.  
>"Goodnight Granger."<br>"Goodnight Malfoy…" 


	4. Chapter 4

xFourx

It's become a routine of sorts. He wakes up in the morning and the first thing he reaches for is a beer. He spends the entire day getting drunk; staying drunk. And after work she swings by his hotel room, cleans up the empty bottles and food cartons (mostly take-out) before forcing him to bed. Then she watches him sleep until she begins to fall asleep before she leaves and goes back to her own flat. And then they do it all over again the next day. It's becoming old, cleaning up after him and taking care of him, and yet she always finds herself doing it. She always goes back. Mostly because it _is_ routine now. But also because she can't just leave him. She's sure he wants her to, but she can't. She can't leave him alone knowing that he's suffering. She can't justify letting him waste away no matter how rude he is, or how awful he was to her in school, or how much her friends still hate him. Or how much he wants her to. Because when it comes down to it, everybody needs somebody whether they want to admit it or not; he most certainly won't. But maybe she is that person for him. Maybe he, in some weird, twisted sort of way, is that person for her.  
>Either way, no matter what the reason, she reckons she'll keep going until she can't anymore.<p>

X

It's been two weeks since Granger started playing Nurse-maid to his hangovers and drunkeness. Two weeks since she became his only _constant_ in his life, apart from his alcohol of course. Two weeks. He can't remember a time when he spent this much time with one person let alone any person. And he most certainly can't remember a time when he spent so much time with _her_.  
>And yet he wouldn't want anyone else to be his Nurse-maid. In fact when she isn't around, even just for more than a few hours, he misses her. She's the only person who doesn't look at him like he's a monster, like he's a lost cause. She's the only person who doesn't treat him like he's an evil. She believes in him even though he hasn't given her a reason to do so. And a part of him likes that. A part of him likes the hopeful look she gets her eyes when he's beginning to sober up; he dismisses the disappointed look she gets when he reaches for another shot. He likes that she talks to him like he's a normal human being instead of someone who is below her, someone that isn't worthy of the air that she breathes. And if he's honest with himself, completely and utterly honest, he likes when she yells at him about his habits and his behaviour, that she isn't afraid to get mad at him and tell him exactly what she thinks. Because it shows that she cares. She cares enough to stick around even though every time she does, he tells her not to. And even though he knows that she shouldn't, that she <em>is<em>above him and that she'd be better off without his burden, and even though he tells her that every day, he secretly likes that she stays.

He changes the routine on a Friday. He knows that Granger won't like it, and that's why he does it.

X

Hermione goes into panic mode Friday evening after work. She stops at a Chinese take-out place on the way to Malfoy's flat after work but when she gets there it's empty. Leaving the take-out on his counter, she apparates to her own flat to see if perhaps he had gone there instead, having gotten bored of waiting for her. She's rather disappointed that he isn't there. She's still rather calm though as she begins to look for him. She apparates back to his place and checks the rooms once more before going out to ask Max if he knows where he went. The answer of course is no, and so thus begins Hermione's' mission to find him-because Merlin knows what kind of trouble he's getting himself into at the very minute. Like any smart witch would do, she goes to every bar/pub and club in the Wizarding world, and he isn't at any of them. That's when she begins to panic. And in her state of panic, she finds herself going to Harry's flat.  
>With tears building in her eyes, she walks out of the fire place into the living room of the flat he shares with Ron. "Harry?"<br>When no immediate answer comes she tries again.  
>"Harry!"<br>Her voice comes out more strained than she would like. Both Harry and Ron appear in the living room seconds later, looking worried and confused. "What is it?" Harry asks her urgently.  
>"What's wrong?" Ron echoes.<br>"I can't find him…"  
>"Malfoy?" the redhead asks dumbly, sounding like he could care less.<br>"Yes! I can't find him, I dunno where he is-"  
>"How did you lose him?"<br>"I didn't lose him! I just-I went by his place after work but I stopped by his favorite Chinese restaurant on the way there to pick up dinner and when I got there he was gone so I went to my flat and he wasn't there either so I-"  
>"Okay, Hermione, calm down," Harry says, grabbing hold of her shoulders and her gaze to calm her down. "Just...relax, okay? Take deep breaths…"<br>"I don't know where he is, I checked all of the Wizarding bars and he wasn't anywhere-"  
>"Maybe he's in a muggle bar?"<br>"There are hundreds of those! Merlin he can be so thick! Who knows what kind of trouble he's getting himself into…" she whispers, looking down at the floor as a number of possibilities run through her head.  
>"We'll help you look for him. C'mon Ron…"<br>"You-you would do that? You hate him."  
>"We're not doing it for him, we're doing it for you," Ron tells her.<br>And that, she decides, is why they aren't just her best friends. They're like brothers. Because even though they hate Malfoy-despise him for all of the things he's done (and hasn't done)-they're willing to help her look for him, because even though it doesn't make sense to anyone, she cares. And that is what matters.

It's winter in London. It's cold and it's snowing and it's been hours since they first started looking for Draco Malfoy, with absolutely no avail. The three of them-the Golden Trio-are walking down their last street until calling it a night. It's a relatively quiet night-too cold and wet for most party-goers. The streets are practically empty except for the few that do brave the weather.  
>"I'm sure he'll turn up tomorrow just as hung over as he always is 'Mione.," Harry says.<br>"That's not making me feel better Harry," she mutters.  
>"Sorry."<br>"I still don't get it. I still don't understand why this means so much to you," Ron wonders, still.  
>"He's not that bad-"<br>"He's a drunk Hermione. More than that, he was a Death Eater-"  
>"There was no proof that he did anything wrong, remember? He just...he needs somebody to believe in him. He doesn't have anybody else," she whispers, looking down at the ground.<br>"Are you sure it's even working? He hasn't gotten any better," Harry points out.  
>"He hasn't gotten any worse either. He's not a bad person. Yes, the alcohol makes him a little bit ruder than usual, and angrier, but...he doesn't know any different."<br>There's a long silent pause, in which the trio walk side by side down the snow covered sidewalk before stopping outside of the last pub on their list.  
>"I suppose if you've stuck around this long...there might be something worth saving in him," Harry mumbles thoughtfully.<br>"Personally, I won't believe it until I see it," Ron says.  
>"This our last stop 'Mione. If he's not here, we're going home-agreed?"<br>Hermione sighs, willing to admit defeat. "Agreed."  
>"And if he is?"<br>"I'm gonna kick his bloody arse."  
>"Brilliant!" Ron exclaims.<br>Hermione is the first to enter the pub, scanning the parts of the room that she can see from the foyer. Ron and Harry stand behind her, also looking around. They aren't as angry or concerned, but they're just as eager to find him.  
>"Hermione…"<br>She looks in the direction that the red head is pointing in and a massive amount of relief consumes her. She smiles at both Harry and Ron. But as she continues to observe the blond man sitting a few tables away, with his right arm around the shoulders of a bottled-blond haired woman and his left arm around the waist of another, an even greater amount of anger washes over her. She grinds her teeth together in an attempt to keep from yelling his name across the pub (and attracting even more attention to him), her gaze narrowing dangerously. The nerve of him! She does everything for him-everything-and he has no qualms whatsoever about just...disappearing like that! And then to wind up at pub, wrapped around not one-no, two women? The bloody nerve! Before she even realizes she's doing so, she's walking towards him, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She's vaguely aware of Harry and Ron following her, looking extremely uncomfortable. She stops in front of his booth placing her hands on her hips, waiting as patiently as possible for him to notice to her.

The first thing he notices is the lack of light all of sudden at his table, like a shadow is being cased over them. The second thing he notices is that while he's whispering drunken, sweet nothing's into the girls' ears, they're hardly paying attention. When he finally looks up, his vision blurred by alcohol, he notices Granger standing there. His lips break out into a grin, showing his teeth as he leans forward, pulling his arms out from around the girls beside him. "Granger! You found me! You're pretty good at that."  
>"You don't make it easy either," she snaps, folding her arms over her chest.<br>"Have a seat Granger! You two too, boys. Go ahead," he grins, gesturing towards the empty chairs across from him.  
>"We can't stay," Hermione tells him.<br>"What? Why not? Of course you can! You always do," the blonde reminds her cheekily. He smirks, leaning back in the booth as he places his arms back around his new friends.  
>"Who are they?" she asks, gesturing to his new friends.<br>"Oh, how rude of me. Granger this is Bella and Claire. Girls, this is Granger-"  
>"Hermione Granger."<br>"Yeah, that."  
>Hermione rolls her eyes. "Right, well, now that you've had your fun-"<br>"I'm not leaving."  
>"Malfoy-"<br>"Why in the hell would I leave Granger? This is the best place on Earth! I'm having a…great time.  
>"Fine... Take care of yourself then, I'm done." She spins on her heel and pushes her way between a rigid Harry and Ron, who follow her shortly afterwards, as she struggles to hold back tears.<br>Draco watches her leave. His gaze is hazy and at first he thinks his mind is playing tricks on him so he blinks. But then she's gone. And he waits for her to come back. He waits for her to come marching over, yelling at him to smarten up and to get his arse out of the booth. He waits for the anger and the frustration and the fire storm that is Hermione Granger, all the while the two girls on either side of him are attempting to gain back his attention. But she doesn't come back. There is no marching, no yelling, no demanding. There are no golden brown eyes pleading with him despite her anger, no lips quivering with unshed tears of frustration. There is no Granger.  
>And then it really begins to sink in, as he sees what was right in front of him moments ago, but is only just realizing now. The way her eyes had pleaded with him to come back with her. The way her bottom lip quivered as she struggled not to cry in front of him. The way her voice sounded, not threatening like it normally is, but defeated. Truly defeated; she had given up on him. And that thought alone is enough to scare him sober.<p>

X

She's been crying for hours.  
>After leaving the pub with Harry and Ron, they'd pulled her into an ally way and apparated them back to her flat, where she'd crumbled into a heap on her living couch and just started bawling. For no apparent reason she cried. Ron ran to fetch her some tea while Harry sat beside her and rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles while she choked back son after sob. She's so overwhelmed by emotion that she isn't even sure which is winning. Anger. Frustration. Disappointment. Fear. Sadness. So many things, so many thoughts are running through her mind that she can't even muster up a reasonable explanation as to why she's so upset.<br>It's hours later by the time she stops crying, sending the trio into silence. "I'm sorry…"  
>"You have nothing to apologize for. You're upset, it's understandable," Harry tells her softly.<br>"Yes but...I shouldn't have dragged you all over London looking for him."  
>"Hey, it got us out of the house. It's not like we had anything better to do," Ron encourages.<br>"Still.. Thank you. You guys should probably go though."  
>"Are you sure?"<br>"We can stay if you'd like?" Ron offers, insists, really.  
>"No, go...I'll be fine," Hermione promises.<br>"Okay, call us if you need anything. Or just come over," Harry tells her.  
>"Thanks," she whispers, smiling softly. She sits on the couch, watching them leave via the Floo. She smiles and waves but once the green flames swallow them up and then disappear, her smile fades. She leans back into the cushions, pulling her knees up to her chest comfortably. Her eyes are red and puffy and sore and her nose is runny. She's still wearing her work clothes-a pearl white t-shirt blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt with a thin silver belt. She had thrown her jacket onto the couch when she'd walked in earlier, and tossed her plain black flats on the floor near the front door. Her hair, however, has lost its 'work-glam' as it's been tousled and pulled at far too much.<br>Hardly five minutes after curling up on the couch, the fireplace rumbles, signaling that someone is coming through the Floo. Without even looking up, she replies. "You guys I'm fine, really."  
>The only reply is deafening silence, it fills her apartment with ease. And when she looks up, she's surprised to see a head of blond hair with dark, guilty looking grey eyes staring back at her. She gasps softly, taken aback by his presence. "W-what are you doing here?"<br>Draco hesitates. He too is unsure of what he's doing here. He just continues to stare at her, which only makes him feel guiltier. "You've been crying," he notices.  
>"I'm fine."<br>"Why have you been crying?" There's a weird sort of gentleness to his voice, a foreign sort of concern. She looks at him still, trying to figure him out, before looking away.  
>"It's none of your business Malfoy. Why are you here?" She pushes herself to her feet stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest-less out of anger and more out of protection.<br>"I just...I don't...I dunno," he stutters, unsure of the answer himself. "I was just...I was about to go home-those girls were far too annoying-and then I remembered how lonely it is there and I knew you would be here so…" He's slurring most of his words, but there's a hint of truth in them. He's looking at her intently, like he's afraid to look away but he's equally afraid to keep looking. Like he's a child afraid of the punishment he knows is coming. A part of her wants to melt and tell him that everything is okay, but it's not.  
>Her gaze narrows disapprovingly. "And so what, you decided you'd come here hoping that I would take care of you again? I told you I was done."<br>"Listen, Granger-"  
>"No! No, you listen to me Malfoy! I'm sick of this! I do <em>everything<em> for you! I do everything and I haven't gotten anything back in return. No 'thank you Granger', no 'good job Granger', no 'I owe you one Granger'-nothing! You've given me nothing but a bloody head ache and a fucking panic attack you ignorant prat! Just who the hell do you think you are Malfoy?"  
>"I…"<br>"You what? You're sorry? You're thankful? It's a little too late for that-"  
>"You don't mean that," he whispers wearily.<br>"Oh I don't? And why wouldn't I? You're selfish and rude and you've been taking advantage of me for weeks and I'm sick of it. I want to help you, but I can't do that if you don't help me-"  
>She's unable to continue suddenly, as his lips-cold and hard and chapped-are crushing down upon hers with force. She's shocked at first and she doesn't know how to react so she doesn't. His hands come up to cup her face, tilting her head back slightly to give him better access; the difference in height between them makes it a bit difficult to kiss her properly. She gasps when he drags his tongue over her lips and he takes advantage of her submission by plunging his tongue into her mouth. He swallows her moan of delight as her hands fall onto his waist. He tastes like vodka and fire whiskey and cigarettes and that alone should cause her to push him away but she pulls him closer.<br>All too soon he pulls away, pressing his forward against hers as the both gasp for air. His hands remain holding her face and hers remain on his hips.  
>"W-what...was that for?" she whispers out of breath.<br>"You wouldn't stop talking," he whispers back.  
>"Gee, thanks." Her tone is both dry and unamused as she pulls away, pushing back on his chest as she turns away from him.<br>"What-wait, Granger…" He reaches for her elbow, pulling her back around to face him. She stumbles on her own feet, falling against his chest with a soft 'oomph' and it knocks him back a couple steps. He's still drunk, she can tell, but he's trying hard not to show it.  
>"What?" Her voice is no louder than a whisper as she struggles no to look up into his face.<br>"I was kidding...I mean my head is pounding, yes, but… Granger.." He uses his free hand to tilt her chin up so that she had no choice but to look at him and he smiles down at her. "Ask me again why I'm here," he requests softly.  
>"Why are you here?"<br>"I missed you."  
>She blinks, taken aback. He missed her? Is that even possible?<br>"You…what?"  
>"I missed you. "<br>"You should've thought of that before you took off-"  
>"I only took off because I knew you would find me. You always do-"<br>"Well maybe that's the problem then! You're too spoiled-you assume that I'm gonna be there at your beck and call and I won't do it anymore!"  
>"I know. I realized that today...and you're right. That's exactly the problem. And you're absolutely right Granger, I've been taking advantage of you," he admits.<br>"Good, glad we're on the same page then."  
>"I just...I need you," he murmurs, pulling her closer. "I shouldn't, but I do. You're...you're the only person in this whole world that I can count on. You're the only person who's willing to give me a second chance, who's willing to believe in me. You...make me feel better."<br>"I thought alcohol made you feel better," she says stubbornly.  
>"It does, in a different sort of way. You're just...you're always there, I'm so used to you being there that when you're not there I...miss you. And when you walked over tonight I thought...well I just thought you'd stick around, like you always do. And then you left and, I tried to forget about it, I tried to stay and talk to those girls but I couldn't. I wanted you to come back…"<br>She can't help the smile that forms on her lips, or the way she softens right in front of him. This is the closest thing she'll get to a 'thank you Granger', she thinks, and somehow...it's better.  
>"You're the only person who gives a damn about me anymore Granger and that's the only thing that keeps me going."<br>"You're making it really hard to be mad at you right now," she mutters, glaring playfully at him.  
>"Good, I don't want you to be mad at me anymore."<br>"What _do_ you want then?"  
>"You."<br>He captures her lips again with his own, running his fingers through her tousled, curly hair and then down her to her waist as he pulls her flush against him. She kisses back quickly this time, eagerly pushing her own fingers through his shaggy blond hair, moaning into his mouth. He swallows her moan, sucking on her bottom lip as he pushes her up against the wall, lifting her while simultaneously pushing her skirt up her thighs so that he can wrap her legs around his waist. She wonders briefly how he's able to do all of this, tasting and looking as drunk as he does before every rational thought that she's ever had concerning Draco Malfoy disappears; she's far too distracted by the feeling of his lips and his tongue dragging over her neck and collar bones. He uses his body to hold her up while his hands begin to tug at her blouse, pulling it out of the top of her skirt before making quick work of the buttons. She throws her head back against the wall as he pushes the fabric off of her shoulders, exposing her pearl white lace bra and perfectly rounded breasts. He groans, pressing his forehead into the crook of her neck as he feels himself get harder. "Granger…"  
>"Hmm?"<br>"You need to tell me to leave...otherwise I won't be able to stop.." he mumbles, breathing in her lavender perfume.  
>"Then don't stop."<br>He groans and kisses her then, so passionately, so emotionally-it's raw and it's desperate-and he thinks that if he doesn't have her soon he just might die.  
>"Bedroom." Her request-although he's fairly certain it's more of a demand-comes out between short, ragged breaths. He nods, his lips searching out the milky column of her throat as she tilts her head back and his arms wrap around her waist as he lowers her into her feet. They stumble down the hall toward her bedroom. She pulls his shirt off over his head, parting their lips for only a second as his fingers fall to the waistband of her skirt before fiddling with the buttons. Her door is already open, making it easier to stumble inside. He pushes her skirt down her hips so that it falls into a puddle on the hardwood floor around her feet, revealing to him a lacy white thong and a perfectly toned stomach. She shivers as the cool air touches her skin and he grabs her by the hips, lifting her up with a sudden ease. Her legs wrap instinctively around his waist and she locks her ankles together at the small of his back. Her arousal is hot and wet on his stomach as he carries her towards the bed, receiving a guttural groan from him. He lowers her onto it carefully, adjusting her thighs so that he can make quick work of his own pants, kicking them off of his legs and onto a floor. His boxers follow suite, joining his pants and his socks in a forgotten pile at the foot of the bed. He hovers over her for a moment, taking in her beauty properly; keeping it safe, locked away in his head. He leans down to kiss her again, using his left arm to hold his weight while his right slips her thongs down her legs, dropping them on the bed behind him. She moans as his fingers crawl back up her thighs, across her stomach and behind her back to the clutches on the back of her bra. It snaps open easily and she reaches up herself to take it off. She moans as she lays back and his mouth latches to her breast.<br>"Draco…"  
>Her voice is low and husky and her breath comes in gasps as she arches her back to give him better access. And the second he hears his name-he first name-on her tongue, he freezes. She's never said his first name before; it's never sounded so beautiful. He pulls back to look at her, his gaze dark with lust, and she looks up at her, hers twinkling.<br>"What?"  
>"Say it again...my name, say it again…"<br>"Draco…"  
>He kisses the valley between her breasts.<br>"Again."  
>"Draco…"<br>He kisses her throat.  
>Again…"<br>"Draco."  
>He kisses her chin and then her ear, taking her earlobe between his teeth softly before kissing her lips again.<br>"Again…"  
>"Draco…"<br>He enters her then, slowly and softly. She gasps as he fills her and he groans low in his throat, drilling within her as he dips his head into the crook of her neck to catch his breath. She's so warm and so tight and it feels soso good, so good that he thinks he might faint.  
>"Draco…please..."<br>He nods as he begins to move, thrusting in and out slowly, listening to her moans of approval. Her hips thrust upwards to meet him, setting a rhythm.  
>"Hermi…"<br>His voice trails off in the middle of her name, unable to finish as his thrusts get faster and faster.  
>"Hard-er…"<br>He does as he's told, moving harder and father. She meets him thrust for thrust, moaning and groaning and screaming. Faster and deeper and desperate. He's desperate. Desperate to feel her. He feels her shudder and squirm with ecstasy beneath him as she comes undone with a call of his name. He follows shortly after, stilling within her as he comes undone, his forehead pressed against her collarbone.  
>"Hermione…"<br>Still inside her, he slips his arms between hers, curling them under her shoulders with his palms down on the mattress under her pillow as he collapses on top of her. Her arms come up around his shoulders, holding him there, as she plays with the hair on the back of his head. he wonders if he's crushing her and so he tries to roll off of her but she doesn't let him.  
>"I'm gonna crush you Granger…"<br>"I don't care."  
>He pulls back slightly, just enough to look her in the eyes. She's exhausted, completely spent like him, and even in the dark her eyes are shining. "You're beautiful."<br>"You've already shagged me Malfoy, there's no need to compliment me."  
>He chuckles softly. "But you are. So beautiful."<br>What he doesn't tell her, as he leans in to kiss her softly on the lips, is that he's more attracted to beauty that inside of her than the beauty that is skin deep.

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><p>Thanks for reading. Reviews are always welcome :)<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Warning: drama and fluff ensue.

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><p>xFivex<p>

Hermione wakes up the next morning alone. She finds herself naked and cold, laying in her own bed, under her own sheets, feeling as though something-someone is missing. Draco. She sits up in the bed, surrounded by her pillows, and she clutches the sheets to her chest. She looks around the room to find it empty, the only sign of him having been here being the rustled sheets beside her and his plain white t-shirt lying on the ground near the door. She wonders briefly why he would leave his shirt behind, before realizing that he probably rushed out of here this morning so that he didn't have to deal with the consequences, with her. He was drunk after all; she wouldn't be surprised if he regrets it now. She blinks back tears as she crawls out of bed and fetches a fresh pair of knickers and a bra. She glances at the shirt on the floor, hesitating before she walks I've and picks it up, bringing it to her chest. It shouldn't hurt this much, she knows that. It shouldn't have hurt last night when she saw him with those girls either, but it did. She's in so far over her head that she can't get out now even if she wanted to.  
>She finds herself slipping the shirt on over her head before she even realizes what she's doing, before walking out of the bedroom and into the hall. Her stomach growls then and she realizes that she never did eat dinner yesterday, which meant that she hasn't eaten since lunch before that. Sighing softly to herself, she walks into the kitchen only to freeze in the doorway when she sees a head of blond hair. His bare back is facing her, his head down in front of the coffee maker beside the kitchen. She blinks in confusion to herself before clearing her throat loudly for his attention.<br>Draco turns around upon hearing his new company in the room, a smile already forming on his face when he sees what she's wearing. "Hey..."  
>"Hi. I um…I thought you left," she admits sheepishly.<br>"No, I was just...I was gonna make breakfast but then I realized that I don't actually know how to make it. But I figured out how to make coffee-that I can do. I left yours black though, I don't know what you take," he rambles, rubbing the back of his neck as a red tint creeps up onto his cheek.  
>She smiles, crossing her arms over her chest as she walks towards him. He hands her a mug, which she takes and sets back on the counter to prepare.<br>"Surprised?"  
>She smiles softly. "A little." She turns to him when she's done, takes a sip, and then continues to look at him over the rim of her mug.<br>"What?"  
>"How are you feeling?"<br>"Good. Better…"  
>"And um...have you-"<br>"Had anything other than coffee to drink?" He guesses. "No."  
>"How does that feel?" she asks curiously.<br>"I'm not exactly sure yet," he admits, taking a sip of his own coffee.  
>A soft rumbling sound comes from the fireplace in the living and suddenly Hermione remembers what day it is. Her eyes widen as she places her coffee on the counter.<br>"What?" Draco asks curiously.  
>"Stay here, don't move," she tells him sternly.<br>"O-Kay, but-"  
>"Just stay, please?"<br>He nods, leaning back against the counter. She leaves him there and walks into the living room just as Harry and Ron step out of the Floo.  
>"'Mione!" Harry exclaims.<br>"Hey, you're up," Ron smiles.  
>"Hey guys-"<br>"And not dressed…" the redhead notices awkwardly.  
>She looks down, suddenly very aware of the face that she doesn't have pants on. Draco's shirt is long enough on her that it covers her bum, but that's about it. "Yeah, sorry…"<br>"How are you feeling?" Harry asks her casually. He hands her her own bag with breakfast in it before taking a seat on her couch.  
>"Thanks... Look, guys-"<br>"I'm just gonna grab some water," Ron says as he makes his way to the kitchen.  
>"Wait! No, don't go in there," she exclaims in an attempt to stop him.<br>"Why not?" The redhead looks at her as though she's suddenly grown two more heads before walking around her and into the kitchen. He comes to a standstill when he realizes that the kitchen is already being occupied. "Hermione?"  
>"I can explain," she squeaks.<br>"Explain what?" Harry is standing behind her now, looking over both hers and Ron's shoulders. His eyes widen when he sees who else is in the kitchen. Draco smirks, looking between the two visitors.  
>"Well this is awkward," the blonde chuckles.<br>"Hermione why doesn't he have a shirt on?" Ron wonder aloud.  
>"I can explain," she repeats.<br>"What is he even doing here?" Harry asks.  
>"I can explain that to, just-"<br>"Truth is guys I'm not wearing a shirt because she's wearing it, and I'm here because I never left," Draco replies, smirking at the two men gawking at him.  
>"Draco, please.."<br>"Draco? Since when do you call him Draco?"  
>"Well, Weasel, it <em>is<em> my name."  
>"Draco!"<br>"What?" the blonde chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.  
>She groans inwardly, moving past Ron to stand between him and the blonde, who the redhead is currently glaring at. "Look, you guys, this isn't a good time-"<br>"You slept with him.. Didn't you?" Harry accuses.  
>"Excuse me-what?" Ron looks dumbfounded.<br>"Bravo Potter, at least one of you is observant…" Draco mutters under his breath.  
>"You slept with him? How could you do such a thing Hermione? With <em>him<em> of all people!" Ron explodes.  
>"Hang on! That's rather rude-"<br>"Shut up Ferret face, no one's talking to you!"  
>"Ron-" Hermione starts, but Draco cuts her off.<br>"You're talking about me, it's the same bloody thing-"  
>"STOP IT! Both of you just stop!" Hermione yells, sending the rest of the room into an awkward silence. "My God, it's like dealing with children every time the two of you are in the same room! Just stop it."<br>"He started it," Ron mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.  
>"Hang on.. You really did sleep with him, didn't you?" Harry asks, getting back to the issue at hand.<br>"Yes, I slept with him. Not that it's any of your business, I'm an adult now and I can take care of myself," Hermione replies.  
>"We know that, it's just...it's-" Harry starts-<br>"Malfoy. For all we know he could've drugged you, or cursed you," Ron finishes hotly.  
>Within seconds Draco crosses the room and grabs the redhead by the collar of his shirt before slamming him against the fridge.<br>"Draco!" Hermione screams.  
>"Say it again Weasley. Say it to my face.," Draco growls, threatening him.<br>"You probably cursed her, why else would she shag _you_?" Ron spits.  
>Draco's fist connects with Ron's jaw faster than either of them can even blink. Hermione grabs the blonds arm before he has a chance to do it again, pulling him back with all the strength she can muster while Harry goes to Ron and helps him to his feet.<br>"Stop! Just stop it, please!" Hermione begs.  
>"He fucking deserves it!" Draco yells.<br>"It doesn't matter, just stop."  
>"He's got no right-"<br>"I have no right?" Ron snorts. "Correct me if I'm wrong Malfoy, but that mark on your arm, is that not the mark of the Voldemort?"  
>Hermione can feel the blonde flinch at the sound of the Dark Lords name, before he casts his gaze at the floor. "Stop it Ron."<br>"Look this is has gotten way off track. It doesn't matter what happened because what's done is done, what matters is why. Why, Hermione?" Harry presses.  
>"I...we just.." She looks back for Draco, as though looking for his help in explaining what had happened between them because even now she doesn't know. He's backing out of the kitchen when she sees him, avoiding her gaze. "Where are you going?"<br>"I have to go," he mutters.  
>"Wha-now?"<br>"Yes, now! Clearly...this was a mistake, so…"  
>"What? No, that's not...Draco-"<br>"You're ashamed Granger, I get it."  
>"I'm not-that isn't-"<br>"You can keep the shirt-or burn it, whatever. And you don't have to come around anymore," he tells her.  
>"Draco-"<br>Before she can even finish her though, he's gone, having apparated away from the middle of her living room. She blinks back the tears that are stinging her eyes, her back to her friends who standing rather awkwardly now in her kitchen.  
>"Well, now that he's gone-"<br>"Don't Ronald…" she mumbles.  
>"Look, Hermione-"<br>"Both of you just shut up!" She screams, tears trickling down her cheeks. "You really don't get it do you? I care about him, okay, a lot. And he cares about me. That's why I slept with him, that's why he slept with me. He didn't drug me, he didn't curse me, he didn't do anything to me, it was my decision. In fact, he told me to tell him to leave-I'm the one who wouldn't let him. And now...Merlin only knows what he's thinking-especially after you're little outburst about his arm. He hates that thing just as much we do-do you know how often I've caught him staring at it, like the only thing he wants to do it make it go away? Too often. He needs stability and I'm trying so hard to give that to him and the both of you are ruining it-"  
>Ron can't help the snort that betrays his silence. "You think that shagging him is gonna give him stability?"<br>She shakes her head sadly. "That's not...you don't understand Ron. It just happened okay? He came over after you left last night and we talked and…it just happened. It's completely different."  
>"We're just...we don't want you to get hurt," Harry says softly.<br>"I know," she sighs. "But it's my decision. If I get hurt then it's my own fault... I'm a big girl now; I can take care of myself. I don't need you guys to protect me all the time."  
>"Easier said than done Mione," the redhead mutters under his breathe.<br>"I know... And I know that you don't like or trust him but I do...can't that be enough for you to at least give him a chance? He'll never ask you on his own, but he needs it."  
>Harry nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "I guess...all we can do is try."<br>Hermione nods silently to herself, smiling sadly. "You know...he didn't even try to find a beer or anything alcoholic this morning. That's a step, right?"  
>"Yeah well after what just happened he's probably gone to find some." Both Harry and Hermione glare at the redhead who shrugs. "I'm sorry, but c'mon…"<br>"I'm gonna go change and then I'm gonna go look for him, you guys can stay here if you want?"  
>"When was the last time you ate?" Harry asks, looking her up and down wearily. He knows for a fact that she didn't eat dinner last night.<br>"I'll grab something to eat, don't worry."

X

Hermione isn't at all surprised to find Draco's flat empty. This time however, she doesn't panic as a result. Because somehow she knows exactly where he is. And so she apparates to the gates surrounding Malfoy Manor to find the gate open, the chains that had held it closed only months ago have been broken and the 'Sold' and 'No Trespassing' signs hanging awkwardly on the sides. She stares up at the mansion, hesitating as the memories of her 'stay' here come rushing back to her. She remembers the Snatchers and the looks on Bellatrix's and Lucius' faces when they saw her, Harry and Ron. She remembers the dangerous glint in the woman's eyes when she saw the sword. She remembers being alone with her, being tortured and abused. Her arm stings at the memory and she brings her arm up, rolling up her sleeve to reveal the scars left behind: Mudblood.  
>She almost doesn't go in. She almost turns around and runs away. But then she thinks of Draco and the fact that he's in there and he's alone and probably drunk, and he's got far worse memories than her. So she swallows her fear like the Gryffindor she is and she begins the long walk towards the mansion.<br>Even now, when the house has been empty for months, she feels an eerie sort of darkness in her bones as she walks inside. For the second time she almost runs away but her courage and stubbornness push her forward. She walks through the mansion, more afraid now than she was the last time she was here..  
>She finds him in the sitting room-THAT room. He's sitting in a chair next the fire place, leaning forward with his head resting on his left hand and a bottle of whiskey in his other, limp at his side. She walks forward, keeping her eyes on him and not on the spot in the middle of the room where she was brutally tortured. If he hears her, he doesn't acknowledge her. She sits in the chair directly opposite him, also leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped under her chin. "Draco…"<br>"You shouldn't be here. I told you not to come," he mumbles. His words are slurred and broken as he speaks to her but he doesn't look at her.  
>"You had to know I would."<br>"You needa stop this.." he slurs. "You can't save me Granger."  
>"But I can try, can't I?"<br>He sighs, leaning back in his chair and finally he looks at her. She smiles softly at him and then he casts his gaze to THAT spot. That spot where he watched his Aunt torture her while he did nothing. Immense guilt consumes him. "You should hate me."  
>"Draco we've had this conversation before, I don't hate you," she whispers softly.<br>"But you should! I watched her...I stood there and I watched!" His voice is louder, but still broken. "I couldn't even...I couldn't stop her. And that Muggle Studies teacher, she was in the dungeons for months...I could've let her go but...I was scared. I was a bloody fucking coward... He's right-I don't have a right to anything."  
>She finds herself kneeling in front of him, placing her right hand in his as she uses her left to tilt his face towards hers, to get his attention. "You do have a right. You have just as much a right as any of us-"<br>"No I don't."  
>"Yes, you do." She insists. "You were a victim, just like us. You were hurt too. And you were found innocent because you didn't do anything wrong."<br>"I didn't do anything right either…" he mutters, glancing down at his hands.  
>"You did, Draco. You denied that Harry was who he was. You didn't fight nearly as hard as you could've to keep him from getting our wands back," she reminds him. She pulls him down, pressing her forehead against his. His eyes are dull, dark, clouded over with despair and hatred-self-hatred. Just when she thinks she's settled him down he shrugs her off of him and pushes himself to his feet. He takes a long swig of the whiskey straight out of the bottle before stumbling towards the other side of the room to a window that overlooks the Malfoy grounds-his mother's garden. She sighs, following him, subconsciously stepping around the area where she had laid, only half conscious on the floor, sliding up beside him. She too looks out the window, at the dying shrubs and decaying plants. She imagines it was much more beautiful at its prime.<br>"He never even asked me."  
>"Who?"<br>"My father. He never even asked me if I wanted it, he just assumed that because he had it that I...wanted it," he admits. He's never told anybody that.  
>"Did you?"<br>"No. I mean when I was young, sure. But I didn't understand what it meant... I didn't understand anything. He never even gave me a fucking choice. He worshipped the ground that...that coward walked on so much that he couldn't even…love me-his own bloody son," he spits, his voice still quite slurred.  
>She watches him intently, lifting his left arm to examine the black tattoo. He watches her as she looks at it for a moment before looking back out the window. "My mother, she was the only person who cared. She was the only person who loved me. She begged him not to make me take it...said I was too young and I wasn't ready. She was just trying to save me and...he threw her down the stairs. And yet he refused to let her take it...because in some fucked up, twisted way, he loved her."<p>

"I'm so sorry Draco..." she whispers.  
>He turns to her, pulling his arm out of her grasp before slipping it around her waist and pulling her against him. She looks up at him with wide, curious eyes. "I don't wanna be like him…"<br>"You won't be," she assures his confidently.  
>"What if I already am?"<br>"You're not. I know you're not."  
>He kisses her then, and it's hard and desperate and hungry. And even though he tastes like whiskey and she's pretty sure she could get drunk off his taste alone, she kisses back. "I need you Granger. You really shouldn't stay, but I need you to."<br>"You know I will."  
>"You're in my head.. You're all I think about," he admits, kissing her again, pushing her against the wall beside the window. "I ruined my sobriety streak. I think I lasted all of two hours."<br>She shakes her head, silently telling him that it no longer matters. "It's a start though, right?"  
>He nods, dipping his head into the crook of her neck. "Take me home Granger."<p>

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><p>Review? Let me know what you think :)<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: contains fluffy Christmas cheer! After this there are only two chapters left.

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><p>xSixx<p>

It's Christmas time. Winter Holidays. A time for cheer and happiness and giving and family. It's Hermione's favorite time of year. It's when family and friends come together, when people give without expecting anything in return. It's magical without magic, and _that_ is why she loves it; wholeheartedly and completely.  
>Being Hermione Granger, a creature of habit and organization, she had purchased and wrapped all of the presents on her list a month in advance. And in the weeks leading up to Christmas Day, when she would join her parents and the Weasley's at the Burrow, her excitement had started to get the best of her. She was glowing with anticipation and oozing of Christmas Cheer. Now normally her cheer and her day-to-day moods would help others get into the spirit, but this year was different. This year she had Draco Malfoy to deal with, and dealing with him proved to be easier said than done. In the last month they've formed a sort of...relationship, one that was deeper than 'nursemaid' and 'drunk-patient'; like a partnership. And while they've both agreed not to label said relationship, her friends and family (and much of the Wizarding world, calling them 'the oddest couple this side of the world has ever seen') already have. Harry and Ron still aren't particularly thrilled with the idea, but they've managed to set their differences aside and at least try to be civil with Draco, for her sake.<br>After the incident in Malfoy Manor, Draco had promised her that he would get rid of every drop of alcohol in his flat if it meant that she wouldn't leave him alone. She agreed, of course, and they had apparated back to his flat to do just that. He hasn't touched a bottle since. However that's not to say that he hasn't been tempted; every time they walk by a pub, every time someone offers him a drink at the restaurant, every time someone mentions it in passing. He's finally come to admit that he is an alcoholic, and that it will always be a problem-a lingering thought in the back of his mind. He told her this just last week and she'd said that it was okay as long he didn't act on it. And for a while he was okay, it didn't seem to bother him so much and she was happy for that.  
>For the last week, however, it seems that he's taken a few steps backwards instead of forwards. It's like as soon as it started to sink in that Christmas was just around the corner he'd started to revert back into his old ways, folding in on himself and not speaking to her. He wasn't drinking though, just brooding, and it almost made her wonder if a drink would help him cope with it. But she knows, as does he, that he won't stop at just one. She's tried everything to cheer him up, to bring out that Christmas spirit, and nothing has happened.<p>

It's Christmas Eve now and she's got one more trick up her sleeve. She shows up at his flat with a cake in one hand, a nicely wrapped box in the other and a smile that could rival the stars, he's sure. Despite that though, he looks at her like she's crazy, and like he's bored. "What are you doing?" he asks skeptically.  
>"You could at least act a little happier to see me." Her voice is laced with light-hearted teasing, but there's a hint of hurt that she really hopes he doesn't notice. Which he does notice and as she walks past him inside, he leans in and places a chaste kiss on her cheek.<br>"I'm always happy to see you," he reassures her.  
>"Mmmm."<br>He rolls his eyes playfully, letting the door closed as he follows her further into the kitchen. She sets the box down on the table before placing the cake box on the counter. He leans against the door jam, watching as she moves around his kitchen with ease, in search of a knife.  
>"What's this for?"<br>"It's Christmas eve!" she exclaims excitedly.  
>He groans inwardly. "Granger I've already told you-"<br>"I know. I just...a cake can't hurt right? It's just cake."  
>"And the present?"<br>"Just in case..?" she offers, smiling innocently at him.  
>"Right.."<br>She sighs loudly, crossing the room towards him. She slips her arms around his neck, tilting his head down to look at her. "I wasn't gonna leave you alone on Christmas Eve Draco."  
>"I know…"<br>"Then quit complaining and fetch me some plates!" She leans up, kissing his lips quickly and before he can deepen it she pulls away.  
>"Not fair," he groans, swatting her bum.<br>She tosses him a seductive smile over her shoulder. "There's more where that came from once we've eaten.."  
>He grins from ear to ear and rushes forward to gather two plates out of the cupboard. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye as she cuts the cake into small triangular pieces. It's his favorite flavour of course-marble chocolate. She looks sideways him, a light blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks when she sees him watching her. "What?"<br>"Nothing. Let's eat," he replies quickly.  
>Minutes later, Hermione is sitting on the counter on one side of the kitchen and Draco on the other. He's sitting with his legs hanging off the edge, while hers are curled Indian style underneath her. There a comfortable silence between them, peaceful. She breaks it, clearing her throat as she looks up at him through her eyelashes.<br>"So...I was thinking... I'm going to the Burrow tomorrow for dinner and I was hoping you would join me," she suggests heaitantly.  
>He stops chewing, looking down at his half empty plate for a moment before looking across at her. "Why?"<br>"It's Christmas. And...I want you to. Besides, I've already talked to Molly and she said you're more than welcome to come."  
>He rolls his eyes, snorting softly and he sets his plate down on the counter top before pushing himself off onto his feet. "I'm not going."<br>"Why?"  
>"Because it's a pity invite Granger-"<br>"It's not a pity invite, I _want_ you there," she reminds him.  
>"Yeah and you're the only one who does," he snaps.<br>"Were you not listening? Molly said-"  
>"'Molly said'-the only reason Molly 'said' anything is because you asked her. You asked her, knowing that I wanted nothing to do with it," he accuses her, his voice getting louder, the angrier he gets. "I don't celebrate Christmas anymore Granger-"<br>"You don't have to, it's just dinner," she insists stubbornly.  
>"Just dinner... Right, with gift exchanges and caroling," he mutters.<br>"Actually there won't be any carols, the Weasley's don't sing," she tells him casually, hoping to lighten the mood.  
>"This isn't a joke Hermione!" he yells defensively. "I told you I'm not interested and I told you why."<br>"Maybe that's exactly why you should come, to create new memories."  
>"I'm not going." He leaves her in the kitchen, speechless at the bluntness in his voice. When she finally gathers herself, she places her own plate on the counter and jumps off, following him into the living room. He's sitting on the couch with his head his hands.<br>"So you're not even gonna think about it?"  
>"No. And you shouldn't either."<br>"So you're just gonna spend it alone?" she asks, folding her arms across her chest.  
>"Yep."<br>"Draco-"  
>"I'm not gonna go somewhere I'm not wanted, and let's face it Granger...most of the Weasley clan hate me so…"<br>"They don't hate you, they don't even know you-"  
>"And they're not going to! I'm not going, alright? End of discussion," he says sternly.<br>"Fine! Fine…" she trails off, looking at everything in the room except for him, not wanting to show him that she was hurt. Hurt because he won't even consider having dinner with the people she cares about. And then when she thinks about why he won't-about the true, dark reason-she feels guilty for being so selfish.

He looks at her like he wants to apologize but he doesn't quite know how, like somehow 'I'm sorry' isn't enough.

She takes a breath as she grabs her jacket off of the back of the couch. "I should go. I've got last minute things I need to do."  
>"Okay."<br>"I'll um...I'll come by after dinner tomorrow."  
>"You don't have to," he responds, sensing that she isn't at all happy with him.<br>She nods, leaning down to place a kiss to his forehead. She doesn't have to respond for him to know that she'll come by anyway.

X

When he wakes up the next morning, Christmas morning, he's cold-inside and out. It's nothing new, not really. Christmas was never a happy time-like Hermione describes-in the Malfoy household. There were gifts of course; galleons worth. And there was food; he often wondered, as a child, just how long the house elves spent cooking all of it. And his family would come over-his grandparents and his aunt, and occasionally a few of his fathers 'friends'. But there was no happiness, not in the way that Hermione seems to think there should be. And there's no warm conversation and family unity. His Christmases were normally spent listening to his parents argue, listening to sickening conversation about purebloods and Mudbloods and everything his father and grandfather would like to do with the latter. He usually just spent the day alone in his room or his father's study. So no, feeling cold and lousy and disappointed on Christmas morning was nothing out of the ordinary for Draco Malfoy.  
>It is different however. Because as awful as his Christmases used to be, at least he had a family to spend it with. He was alone, but he wasn't <em>alone<em>. This is his first Christmas without his parents, the first he's aware of anyway. Last Christmas he was confined to a cell in Azkaban and he hadn't even been keeping track of what day it was. By the time he did figure it out, it had long since passed and so the so-called holiday didn't even matter.  
>He spends the morning doing push-ups and sit ups and watching TV, doing everything he can to keep himself occupied. By the time noon rolls around he finds himself lying flat on his back on the floor, staring up at the yellowing ceiling. And <em>those<em> thoughts begin to plague his mind, those dark and angry thoughts that seem to threaten his sanity at every wrong doing; every time something goes even the littlest bit wrong. His father's voice belittling and degrading him; the same way he mirrored that behavior onto the kids at school. The Dark Lords voice ordering killings and hunting's of muggles and Mudbloods alike. And then his own voice belittling and degrading him the same way his father did, calling him a murderer and a coward. Weak. Scum. Not worthy of anything, let alone happiness (even on Christmas). He's getting thirsty. Thirsty for something hard and cold, preferably fire whiskey but just about anything else would do.  
>He refrains, forcing himself to stay put. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing away everything but it doesn't work. It's more than just a thirst, it's a need. A mental as well as physical <em>need<em>. His hands begin to shake and his forehead begins to sweat and he wants it, craves it, needs it so damn bad. It's physical to point of being painful and fuck…he needs her. He doesn't know how to do this without her. It's like she's the glue that holds him together; the only thing in this whole world that can calm him down and chase away the thoughts, the demons. She's the only thing that makes any sort of sense to him at all and _fuck_ he was so stupid to say no to her.  
>He pretended he didn't notice the disappointment in her voice or the hurt in her eyes when he told her he wouldn't go to the Burrow with her. But he did see it. He felt it as though they were his own bloody feelings. Somehow, this girl has gotten to him-under his skin, in his system. He can't do anything without her anymore; he knows he's far too dependent on her. And damn it to hell if he's gonna let Weasley and Potter take her away from him.<p>

X

Despite being surrounded by her friends and family on Christmas Day, despite the cheer and spirit floating around the Burrow, Hermione still finds herself looking out the kitchen window while helping Molly and her mother cook, hoping that she'll see that familiar head of blond hair. She knows it's silly. She knows that he flat out refused to join her, without even giving it a second thought. But a part of her thinks that he might just show up. A part of her believes that deep down he really had wanted to come but that he was just too stubborn and/or afraid to admit it.  
>Nobody had made a point of asking her where he was or if he was even coming when she'd showed up alone, but she could tell that everyone was wondering just that. Especially her parents.<br>She's pulled (rather abruptly) out of her thoughts when Ginny walks into the kitchen calling her name. "Sorry, what?"  
>"Um...Malfoy's here…"<br>"W-what? Now?" Hermione stutters, taken aback by the redheads statement.  
>"He's at the front door. He's looking for you. And...he called you<em> Hermione<em>..."  
>The brunette can't help but smile at the almost…disgusted look on her friends face, one that says she isn't sure she can get used to that-him calling her by her first name. "Um, excuse me." She tosses Molly and her mother an apologetic glance before following Ginny out of the kitchen and through the living room to where Draco is standing at the front door. Dressed in black trousers, a white dress shirt and a black winter coat, he looks sort of out of place amongst the older furnishings in the house. Not to mention the seriously awkward look on his face, as everyone in the room-Fred, George, Ron and Harry-are staring at him as though he's got two heads. "Hey," she greets him softly, smiling shyly at him.<br>"Hey, I uh...I hope it's okay I came, I just…" he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Is this normal?  
>"It's okay. Come in."<br>He nods, walking further into the room and she helps him take his jacket off before hanging it on the coat hanger by the door. "Can we talk Granger?" he whispers in her ear.  
>"Yes, of course." She takes his hand, hers feel hot in contrast to his cold ones, and leads up the staircase. He follows her into one of the many bedrooms the house has to offer. She turns to him, smiling softly up at him.<br>H: what are you doing here?  
>He sighs, pulling his hand out of her to run both of his over his face in a tired manner. "I was just...I was sitting around, alone, and the more I thought about it I realized you were right. I need to make new memories. The ones I have, they're...awful. Nobody should be alone on Christmas, least of all me."<br>"You had those thoughts again, didn't you?"  
>"Yeah," he admits sheepishly. "I just-I need to be here. I need to be with you, because when I'm with you...they go away."<br>She smiles, leaning up as she winds her arms around his neck. "I'm glad you came."  
>He smiles, pressing his forehead against hers lightly as his arms fall around her waist. "At least somebody is," he murmurs.<br>"We should probably let Molly know you're gonna stay."

"Probably…" He sighs inwardly, following her back downstairs. For the second time that day, everybody in the room stops speaking and stares at him. Hermione doesn't seem to notice, as she leads him through the living room into the kitchen, where a woman he recognizes as Molly Weasley bastes the giant turkey with a flick of her wand. There's another woman there, stirring something in a pot on the stove by hand. He doesn't recognize her, but he does recognize the brown curls-the same sort of curls he likes to twirl around his fingers late at night. Suddenly he isn't so sure about his decision to stay…  
>"Mum, Molly?"<br>Both older woman turn around, warm smiles on their faces.  
>"Ahh, Draco! How are you dear?" Molly asks him politely.<br>"I'm...fine…"  
>"Great, and you're staying for dinner I presume? He is staying, isn't he Hermione?"<br>"Yes-"  
>"As long as it's okay," he adds, not wanting to be rude.<br>"Oh honey, it's more than okay, I assure you. Ronald!" the older Weasley mother screeches her sons name loudly, suddenly.  
>Draco steps aside awkwardly, his left hand still clutched in Hermione's right, as Ron walks into the kitchen. He casts a quick glance in Draco's direction before turning to his mother. "Yes mum?"<br>"Would you set an extra spot of the table for Draco? Dinner should be ready in just a few minutes."  
>"Sure…"<br>Hermione smiles at the red headed boy, silently thanking him as he fetches another plate and more cutlery. Draco nods politely at him as he walks past them to set the table. It's a long table, with 15, now 16, seats. It's sort of overwhelming for him just looking at it, an only child used to a table set for 3-6 tops. Hermione squeezes his hand, reassuring him that everything is going to be okay. "Draco, I'd like you to meet my mother Judy Granger. My father is around here somewhere too. Mum, this is Draco...Draco Malfoy."  
>Judy Granger steps forward, eyeing him with a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you Draco."<br>"The pleasure is all mine." He smiles back, extending his hand for her to shake. Imagine his surprise and absolute panic when she grabs it and pulls him into a hug, a motherly sort of hug. He looks at Hermione over her shoulder, his eyes wide with panic and shock, and she smiles at him. When Judy pulls back, she pats his cheek lightly before going back to helping Molly.

X

Aside from the lingering looks he feels on him at times, from everyone at the dining room table, Christmas dinner is rather fantastic. And entirely different from the ones he remembers as a child. There's laughter and smiles and stories of laughter and smiles. At first he feels awkward, like he's intruding on a (giant) private moment between family and friends. And then he feels awkward because while he's sitting next to Hermione, he's sitting across from Harry and Ron, and her _father_ is sitting a few seats down and he feels extremely out of place. But as the meal drags on and the light conversations continue, he becomes less tense and uncomfortable, eventually joking around with the twin Weasley's and even Ginny. By the time the plates were empty and the table was cleared, he almost ALMOST feels like he might belong...at least some day.  
>Later that evening, while everyone is settled in the living room (which seems to be larger than it looks), including Draco, who is sitting in an old plush rocking chair with Hermione sitting on the arm as his hand trails absently up and down her side, Ginny disappears before returning with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a tray of glasses in the others. Draco's eyes are glued to the bottle, vaguely aware of Ginny's speech about family and friends and celebrating the people they have. Hermione is the first to notice. She clears her throat loudly, not only pulling him out of his thoughts but also gaining the attention of everyone in the room. Draco swallows the lump in his throat, shifting his position in the chair awkwardly as he runs his free hand over his face.<br>"Ginny…" Hermione whispers.  
>"Oh! Oh Merlin, I'm sorry-I didn't even realize..." She trails off, her eyes wide with recognition of her mistake as she moves her hand behind her back in a vain attempt to hide the bottle.<br>"It's okay-"  
>"No, you know what, we can drink something else," Ginny suggests.<br>"It's okay Ginny-" the blonde tries to insist.  
>"We have pumpkin juice, right mum? And um, apple cider-"<br>"I said it's okay!" he insists rather loudly, startling everyone in the room. "Honestly...it's fine. I just-I need some air." He removes his arm from around Hermione's hip and pushes himself to his feet before turning and walking towards the back door. He breathes in the cool, crisp winter air, crossing his arms over his chest as he lets the door close behind him. He takes deep breathes to settle his nerves and closes his eyes. Moments later he hears the door open and then close before a pair of warm arms slip around his waist.

She presses her forehead to his shoulder blade softly, breathing in his cologne. "I'm sorry."  
>"It's okay."<br>"She forgot...they forget sometimes…"  
>"It's okay, I get it. They don't have to deal with it every day like I do...like you do."<br>"I deal with it because I want you, not because I have to," she whispers.  
>"I know, and that is why I love you," he murmurs. His eyes widen the second those words leave his mouth. Her arms tense around his torso; she hadn't been expecting that. To be honest neither had he. It's not like it isn't true, mind you. It is-at least it could be, to a degree. But she isn't supposed to know that; he was never supposed to say it out loud let alone think it to himself. She moves around him then, standing in front of him, looking up at him with a sort of humbled hope in her eyes. She wants the truth-to know if it's true, but he can't give her that. Not yet. Because he's fairly certain that if he would she'd run for the hills and <em>that,<em> he won't let happen. "I mean...you know what I mean."  
>She smiles although her eyes betray her. She isn't hurt, because she does know what he means, she's just...disappointed. He leans in to kiss her and that's when she notices the silver chain around his neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his long sleeved shirt. Her gift to him: a snake shaped pendant on a silver chain, the snake representing the house he grew up in. The snake is a locket and inside is a picture of his mother. She reaches up and pulls it from out of his sweater, admiring the way it looks around his neck. "You opened it."<br>"Yeah, I meant to thank you. It's probably the most meaningful gift I've ever received."  
>She smiles, leaning up on her tip toes to press a kiss to his lips once more but before she can deepen it he pulls back. He reaches into the front pocket of his trousers, pulling an identical looking silver chain out. He raises his hand, holding it open for her to reveal a pendant in the shape of a bird. It's nothing extravagant or over the top, but it's beautiful. She gasps in surprise, looking at him in wonder.<br>"My Christmas present to you."  
>"Draco..."<br>"It was my mother's...the bird represents her desire for freedom. I want you to have it because you're spirit is free-"  
>"Draco I can't-"<br>"Please take it?" he begs softly. "You've saved me Granger...in a way nobody else could. You have set _me_ free…"  
>"It's beautiful," she whispers, in awe.<br>"It's yours. Just say yes."  
>She smiles up at him, her eyes twinkling and shining with unshed tears of happiness. "Yes."<br>He smiles, unclasping the clasp and wrapping it around her neck. The silver bird rests on her chest between her collar bones as he does it up. And as he lets it fall, pulling her hair out to let it fall loosely around the back of her neck, the bird flutters down her chest to rest just above her breasts. He lets her hair down, resting his elbows on her shoulders as he presses a kiss to her forehead. She melts against him, burying her face into his neck as she breaths in his scent once more.  
>"Happy Christmas Draco."<br>"Happy Christmas Hermione."  
>Someone behind them clears their throat, causing them to pull apart. Draco looks back over his shoulder while Hermione glances around his slim figure to see Ron standing in the doorway. He looks sort of awkward and uncomfortable at the display of affection that has happened before him, but he also has a look of understanding in his light green eyes. "Uhh...we've brought out the apple cider instead."<br>"Thanks Ron," Hermione smiles. She kisses Draco's cheek before heading back inside, smiling at Ron on the way in.  
>Draco rubs the back of his neck, taking a deep breath as he turns back to the house. He looks at Ron, extending his hand. "Thanks Weasley…"<br>Ron looks at the blondes hand hesitantly, before shaking it. "Don't mention it."  
>By the time they both walk back into the living room (and after Ginny hugs him, apologizing profusely), everyone is eating pumpkin pie and sipping apple cider. He takes the piece offered to him by Molly and takes he seat next to Hermione on the floor in front of the fireplace. He places his arm behind her back, resting it on the carpeted floor, smiling when she leans into him with her head resting on his shoulder. And finally, he thinks he belongs.<br>Happy Christmas indeed.

* * *

><p>Thoughts?<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks so much to everyone taking time to give this story a shot! It means a lot!

This is the second last chapter, so the end is near. Don't be afraid to let me know what you think.

* * *

><p>xSevenx<p>

Draco Malfoy wonders how (and why) he got so lucky, every day. Sometimes twice a day. And on those special days, up to three or four times. Because surely he's not _really_ worthy. He's done nothing to deserve such glorious treatment, least of all from _her_.  
>She says it's because everyone deserves a second chance, and that <em>this<em> is his.  
>Some days he catches himself watching her. When she's doing laundry, or washing dishes by hand, or eating, or watching TV. When she's poking around his kitchen and inside his fridge because she knows exactly where everything is. When she's dancing around her living room to her favorite Muggle music or singing karaoke with Ginny. And then there are times that he watches her when she's sleeping, in the middle of night. He could watch her for hours and it wouldn't faze him in the least. He could never get bored.<br>It's days like that that he doesn't know what he'd do without her, where he'd be without her, who he'd be…without her. And he never, ever, wants to find that out. Ever.

In the weeks since Christmas dinner at the Burrow he's started to spend more time with her friends-and her of course, but he spends almost every day with her. They don't do anything extravagant or out of the ordinary really, not like you'd expect from war hero's. They mostly just went to the movies or out for dinners and lunches, and every Saturday morning Harry and Ron would come over with breakfast and coffee and they'd all four (sometimes five when Ginny is around) sit in the living room and watch Saturday morning cartoons. It turns out he rather likes the Muggle contraption called a 'television', it makes for some rather amusing hours.  
>It is currently a Sunday. He, along with Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Ron have agreed to join Arthur and Molly Weasley at the Burrow yet again for lunch. They've gotten rather lonely in the years after the war ended, especially when Harry and Ron had moved out and Ginny started going to a Wizarding college in Ireland. Thus, they've all agreed to have dinner andor lunch with them whenever possible. And it just so happens that all five of them are available this weekend.  
>Draco and Hermione arrive shortly after 11 o'clock in the morning; Ron, Ginny and Harry are already there. The smell of delicious beef stew wafts through the small (but very tall) house and the sight of freshly made sandwiches on a platter causes Draco's stomach to grumble; he didn't even realize he was hungry beforehand. He stops in the living room to greet Arthur, Ron and Harry, who are watching a Muggle football match before following Hermione into the kitchen to find Molly and Ginny-Molly stirring the stew pot and the youngest Weasley supervising the knife currently chopping up vegetables.<br>"Smells delicious Molly," Hermione gushes.  
>Draco peers over the older woman's shoulder into the pot and his stomach growls again. "Looks delicious too."<br>"How long do you think it'll be mum?" Ginny asks, her mouth practically watering.  
>"Thank you both. And I suspect it'll take approximately 20 minutes, give or take," Molly tells them all.<br>"Do you need help?" Draco offers politely. He's taken a fancy to older Weasley woman; like a mother.  
>Molly smiles, turning to face Draco for a briefly minute, who smiles back at her. "Thanks darling, but I'm alright. Although to be offered help is truly wonderful." She says the last bit loud enough for the boys in the other room to hear but still, it goes unnoticed.<br>"Mother you know that once they get in front of a TV they're dead to the world," Ginny reminds her, giggling softly to herself.  
>"Still, a mother can hope. Besides, Draco offered to help," Molly points out.<br>Hermione snorts playfully. "That's because he's not yet sitting in front of the TV."  
>Draco clutches his chest with hand in mock pain and disappointment, his eyes wide with a playful shocked look. "You wound me Granger."<br>She giggles, leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. As if on cue Ron walks into the kitchen carrying a parcel in his hand.  
>"Oh for the love of Merlin…" Ron groans, rolling his eyes. "Why is it that every time I walk into a room the two of you are snogging?"<br>"You have impeccable timing Weasley. It's becoming routine for you, is there something we should know?" Draco smirks. He's teasing the redhead of course, it's like a prerequisite for conversation between Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley. Only nowadays his voice doesn't hold the venom and hatred of his youth, but the innocence of friendship.  
>"Shut up Malfoy and take this." He shoves the parcel into Draco's chest and the blond takes hold of it, looking down at it in confusion.<br>"What is it?"  
>"Dunno, I think it's from the Ministry though. It was one of their owls."<br>Still rather confused, Draco looks to Hermione who gives him a reassuring smile as he unravels the parchment. His reads it silently in his head, taking in every word carefully. It isn't long, in fact it's quite short for a letter from the ministry, but it doesn't make him any less nervous.  
>Hermione watches him in apprehension, waiting for a response or a reaction. The reaction she gets is something she had feared. His eyes grow dark and his Adams apple bobs as he swallows thickly, his gaze piercing the parchment as though he could burn a hole in it if he tried hard enough. Suddenly everyone in the kitchen is silent and wary. "Draco? Drake what is it?" she asks softly.<br>"It's...about my father," he mumbles.  
>"What? What does it say?"<br>"Kingsley...he wants me to meet with him as soon as possible...about my father."  
>"That's odd... I wonder what it could be about," the brunette wonders aloud.<br>"Mmm... I should go, I apologize-"  
>"Oh don't you worry dear, another time," Molly smiles warmly at the young man.<br>He nods, looking at Hermione, silently asking her to come with him. She nods, following him through the living room to the fireplace, all the while promising to reschedule lunch for another Sunday. The green flames swallow them whole.

They reappear in the Minister Shakelbots' office, hand in hand as they emerge from the fire place and the green flames. Kingsley is sitting as his desk alone, rifling through ministry documents. If he hears the fire place rumble when they arrive, he doesn't acknowledge it. And yet he knows they're there because just before Draco opens his mouth to speak, the Minister tells them both to have a seat on the couch on the other side of the room. Hermione practically has to drag him over and sit him down because his nerves are beginning to get the best of him. He thinks (quite briefly) that it would be a hell of a lot easier to sit still with a bottle of whiskey, but he quickly pushes that thought out of his head. His arms are crossed over his chest and his left leg is bobbing up and down with anticipation, a habit he'd picked up in his school days. Beside him however, Hermione is acting all calmcoolandcollected (acting being the key word), probably to settle his nerves down. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that it isn't working.

The room is dead silent, deafeningly so, before the Minister stands up from his desk and greets them before sliding into a chair beside the couch they are currently sitting on. "I hope I haven't interrupted anything,"  
>"Nothing that can't be rescheduled," Hermione responds, knowing that Draco won't. She smiles politely at the man in charge as she slips her hand into Draco's, who's now sitting forward with his elbows resting on his knees.<br>"Well thank you, both, for coming."  
>"The letter said it's about my father... What is it?" Draco asks shortly, just hoping to get it over with.<br>"During Lucius Malfoy's trial, he was sentenced to solitary confinement in Azkaban. Recently however, it seems that it's costing the Ministry more time and money to keep him alive…"  
>Draco sucks in a shaky breath at the Ministers words and hangs his head with his eyes closed. Hermione tightens her grip on his hand in reassurance and support but it feels numb to him.<br>"I wanted to tell you myself that the courts have decided to execute him," the Minister finishes.  
>The blond lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding before he swallows the snitch sized lump in his throat. "When?"<br>"One week from today."  
>Draco nods, staring at the floor to avoid the gazes of his girlfriend and the minister. The only thing he feels is an overwhelming need to drink something alcoholic. Anything alcoholic. He doesn't feel sad, or angry and heartbroken. He doesn't feel much of anything, not like he should anyway. Not the way he thinks he should.<br>"Draco..?" Hermione whispers.  
>"I'm fine." He pushes himself to his feet, shoving his hands through his hair as he starts to pace back and forth behind the couch.<br>"If there's anything you want or need Mr. Malfoy, don't hesitate to ask-"  
>"I don't need anything."<br>"Do you need water, or-" Hermione starts, but doesn't finish, as he interrupts her.  
>"I said I'm fine!" He's shaking now, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides as he continues to pace back and forth. His breathing is beginning to get shallow and uneven.<br>"Drake you need to calm down, please…" she trails off.  
>"Don't tell me what to do," he snaps.<br>"I understand this is difficult for you-" the Minister starts-  
>"It's not difficult," the blonde mutters.<br>"I'm...afraid I don't understand."  
>"Yeah...I wouldn't expect you to."<br>Hermione is on her feet now too, trying to calm him down physically but he continues to pace, shrugging her off at every turn. "Draco-"  
>"I have to go." He leaves then, before either Hermione or Kingsley could stop him, apparating on the spot into thin air. He doesn't have a destination in mind; nowhere to go.<p>

X

The first place Hermione goes after leaving the Minister to his paperwork, is to the Burrow. By the time she arrives, lunch is done and everyone is gathered in the living room talking and joking and she's trying really, really hard not to cry. Ginny is the first to notice her standing in the doorway with watery brown eyes and a panicked-like look on her face. The youngest Weasley jumps to her feet then and envelopes Hermione in a hug. "What in the world is wrong?"  
>"Yes, where's Draco?" Molly wonders.<br>"I dunno…" she whispers, sniffing back tears.  
>"Well, he's okay isn't he?" the mother asks, looking just as worried as the brunette feels.<br>"I dunno…"  
>"'Mione? Tell us what happened, what did Kingsley want?" Ron asks calmly.<br>Ginny walks her to the couch and she sits down, sniffing back tears and struggling not to let them fall.  
>"Hermione.." Harry whispers, sitting next to her to rub her back.<br>"Lucius Malfoy is being executed a week from today…"  
>"He's in solitary confinement, why would they execute him?" Arthur wonders.<br>"The courts have decided that it's costing more money to keep him alive as opposed to just...killing him."  
>"And Draco...is he..?" Molly asks, trailing off.<br>"He kept saying he was fine and that he didn't need anything but...I know him. And I know what the look in his eyes means. He's...he's going to find alcohol," she whimpers, choking on the last word.  
>"You don't know that," Ron says, although the tone in his voice indicates that he doesn't really believe it.<br>"Yes I do."  
>"He's been sober-"<br>"It doesn't matter!" She's on her feet now, pacing up and down and back and forth just like Draco had done earlier. "God, he's an alcoholic-it doesn't matter how long he's been sober! His whole world just got turned upside down back there...there's no way…I'm gonna lose him," she whispers sadly as a fresh wave of tears cascade their way down her cheeks. "This is gonna undo everything we've done-everything _he's_ done. It's gonna destroy him."  
>"You don't know that," Ginny murmurs, trying to remain positive.<br>"I have to find him-"  
>"You need to calm down Hermione," Harry tells her softly.<br>"I can't, I have to find him-"  
>"Hermione, dear, just have a seat and I'll make you some tea," Molly offers.<br>"I don't want tea, I don't want to sit down, I want to find him before he makes a mistake," the brunette replies hastily.  
>"Where do you think he would go?" Ginny wonders.<br>"I dunno…"  
>"You know him better than anyone 'Mione. Where would he go?"<br>"I...I don't... Oh my god, the garden." Her eyes widen as she realizes the one place he _would_ go. "The garden!"  
>"Which garden?" Ron asks, looking at her-along with everyone else-in confusion.<br>"His mothers."

X

Draco can't remember the last time he felt so free. He can't remember the last time he felt the familiar (delicious) sting of fire whiskey as it slid down his throat, or the warm fuzzy feeling he gets from his head to his toes. Actually that's a lie, he remembers the last time he felt so, quite well. And bloody hell, it feels amazing.  
>After leaving the Ministers office (and Hermione) he'd found himself in Diagon Alley, wandering aimlessly about, taking in the various glances and glares and whispers of the passer's by with ease. Before he could even register himself what he was doing he was walking around with an open bottle of fire whiskey, stumbling his way through the crowded street until he found an acceptable place to disapparate to his newly found destination. His Mother's garden.<br>He had spent a lot of time in this garden as a child, with his mother. When he was young he would just sit on a couple of the stone benches and watch her as she created beauty by magic. When he was old enough to practice magic he would help; he had his own section for a while, his mother called it 'Dragon's Garden'. She'd made a sign for it and everything. Her garden was _hers_. It was the one aspect of her life that she had control over (because Merlin knows that his father controlled everything else) and she never let anyone tell her otherwise. On more than one occasion Lucius had told her to let the elves take care of it, but she'd refused; Draco was glad for that. Her garden was made from love and affection and whenever Draco needed a safe place to hide this was where he would come. When his parents were fighting, when his father was hurting his mother, when his father's 'friends' (Death Eaters) would come for meetings in the study. He would come to the gardens, walk the different cobble stone paths and sit on the beautifully goblin carved benches and escape into a world that his mother had created. A world of love and compassion and beauty; a world away from darkness and hatred and evil.  
>This time is no different, except that it is. He still walks the paths-stumbles on the cobble stones with his bottle of fire whiskey clutched tightly in his hands. But there is no beauty. There is no love or compassion. The plants are dead and the weeds have grown in everywhere, taking over the gardens. There's an eery sort of loneliness and emptiness and if he didn't know that for a fact that he was in a garden, he'd think for sure that he was in a graveyard.<p>

He senses her presence, and then smells her perfume before her sees her. And when he does, a huge smirk graces his features. "Well well well, you deserve an 'O' Granger, well done! And you brought back-up," slurs, noticing the friends behind her.  
>Hermione flinches upon hearing the alcohol in his voice and the sarcasm behind it. Ron, Harry and Ginny are silent behind her. Her eyes fall upon the half empty bottle of fire whiskey in his pale hand and she feels tears welling up in her eyes. "Draco please don't...please put the bottle down," she begs.<br>He smirks, bringing the rim of the bottle to his lips, his fingers wrapped around the neck as he tilts his head back and allows the liquid to slip down his throat easily. He doesn't even feel the burn.  
>"Draco.."<br>"You should've left when you had the chance Granger. You should've looked the other way, Merlin knows I gave you plenty of opportunities," he mutters.  
>"Draco please…" she whispers.<br>He closes his eyes, shaking his head as he takes another swig from the bottle. "What gave me away this time?"  
>"I-I know you."<br>"Hmmm not well enough it seems…"  
>"You don't know what you're talking about," she insists, taking a step towards him.<br>"Don't I? If you knew me at all-if you know what's good for you then you'll walk away now," he tells her, taking a step back.  
>"You know I won't."<br>"Why not? Huh? Why can't you just leave me alone? I was fine without-"  
>"You know that not true," she whispers.<br>"Maybe not by your know-it-all standards, but by everyone else's I was."  
>"Draco please...put the bottle down," she pleads softly. "I brought you a potion, just drink it and we can talk about this."<br>"Why, so you can '_save_' me? In case you haven't figure it out yet little miss smarty pants, YOU CAN'T SAVE ME," he spits, his voice getting louder and louder with each syllable. "What do I have to do to get that through your thick skull?"  
>"Look, mate-"<br>"Mate? Don't 'mate' me, _mate_," the blonde snaps, glaring behind the woman in front of him at the redhead. "You don't even like me-you never have, so don't pretend that you give a damn about me!"  
>"I'm not pretending," Ron tells him. "And even if I was, I care about Hermione and she cares about you-"<br>"WHY? Why do any of you care? Why would you waste your time-surely you have better things to do than babysit someone like me, making sure I don't drink myself stupid and kill myself." He pauses, a smug sort of smirk playing on his lips. "Like I need to drink myself stupid to kill myself-"  
>"Please don't say that," Hermione whimpers. "Just...we <em>care<em> because we believe in you. We know who you are, who you really are-"  
>"The only thing you <em>know<em> Granger, is what I've allowed you to. You don't know me."  
>"Then help us to," Ginny says softly, stepping forward with confidence.<br>"Fine. You want to know me? FINE!" The blonde bellows, throwing his arms about wildly. Alcohol comes swishing out the bottle in his hand but he doesn't even notice. "The last time I stood here, in this very garden, was after my psychotic aunt tortured you," he slurs, pointing at the brunette crying and shaking her head in front of him. "After I _watched_ her torture you and carve 'Mudblood' into you're pretty little arm. I stood there and did nothing-now what does that tell you? I'm a coward, that's what that tells you," he spits, his voice laced with disgust.  
>"Y-you were afraid-"<br>"And the time before that," he continues, ignoring her weak attempt to calm him down. "Two weeks before, when my father brought home a fifteen year old Muggle girl. She had blond hair and blue eyes and had nothing to do with the war and he raped and tortured her for _hours_. I listened to her scream at the top of her bloody lungs for _hours_. She begged me to help her, to let her go and I didn't...because I didn't want to get caught helping a _Muggle_ who didn't even mean anything to me."  
>"It wasn't your fault-"<br>"And the time before that...after I watched a snake devour the Muggle Studies teacher from Hogwarts on my dining room table," he mutters.  
>"STOP IT!" Hermione screams, tears trickling nonstop down her cheeks. "Stop trying to give us reasons to hate you! Stop trying to make us not care, Draco..." She trails off, stepping towards him and looking up at him with hopeful eyes. "What...what happened to you, it wasn't your fault. You were just a kid and your father-"<br>"My father hated me." He snorts loudly, sarcastically and he knocks back another swig, breaking her heart. "I was his only son...his only heir. I did _everything_ for him and he hated me. Nothing I did was ever good enough," he slurs, moving away from him. "No matter what grade I got, whether it was a fail or a pass his reaction was always the same. 'You can do better than hat son'. No matter what club I joined at school to make him proud, no matter what kind of feedback I got from the teachers...it was never good enough. I was always a letdown to him. His expectations were so high and no matter how hard I tried...I could never reach them. I could never reach him…"  
>"You have to stop blaming yourself," she whispers.<br>"Oh I don't blame me, I blame him. He ruined everything-my family, my life...my mother. If it weren't for him and his crazy obsession with Voldemort then she'd still be alive. He can burn in hell for all I care," he spits dangerously. He takes another swig, tilting his head so far back that it knocks him off balance and he stumbles backwards. Hermione reaches out to catch him, holding onto his arm to keep him from falling over himself. Something in his snaps them, worse than before, and his eyes cloud over with a darkness she's never seen before. "Get off me-DON'T touch me!" He shrugs her off, straightening himself out as he dusts the imaginary dirt off of his clothes. "You need to go. You need to stop this ridiculous hero act."  
>"No-"<br>"I mean it Hermione! Stop it," he demands.  
>"No."<br>"You don't get it do you? For someone who's so bloody smart, you're being awfully dumb Granger," he snaps. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not this great guy you seem to think I am and I'm not the guy you can dress up and play house with."  
>She shakes her head in disbelief. "Draco.."<br>"How do you know I haven't been lying? Huh? How do you know I haven't been lying to you this whole time just to gain your sympathy?"  
>"B-because-"<br>"You don't."  
>"But you..." she trails off, squinting her eyes in concentration. The thought had never even crossed her mind. "You told me-"<br>"I know what I told you." Tears are streaming down her cheeks and he's aching to reach out and wipe them away. He wants so desperately to hold her and to tell her that he's lying and that she's right and that he's sorry but he can't. So instead he turns his back on her (on all of them). The distinct sound of four people apparating echoes in the garden he used to call home and he feels emptier than he's ever felt in his life. He takes a final swig of the fire whiskey, polishing off the large bottle easily, and tells himself that it's for the best.  
>It's for the best.<br>It's for the best.  
>It's for Hermione.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys, thanks for reading! This is the last chapter, and as sad as I am for that, everything must come to an end. I hope everyone is happy with the ending, and I hope I do this story justice. Enjoy :)

* * *

><p>xEightx<p>

After Hermione leaves Narcissa's garden, with Harry, Ron and Ginny, she goes straight home. She's crying, again, over him and she's pretty sure that if they weren't so worried about her and confused when it came to _him_ that every single one of them would hex him into oblivion. They are confused and so is she, but she doesn't have time for that because she's upset. And she's hurt. And she's crying so hard that she begins to choke on her own sobs as her friends attempt to comfort her but it's no use. She's beyond being comforted. She's beyond hurt. She's devastated because she had truly believed in the man that _he_ was when he was with her. She had loved him, and _he_ has just ruined-destroyed-everything she had ever believed. It's like her heart breaks into a million tiny pieces, beyond recognition and salvation and by the time dinner rolls around she can't eat. Harry tried to get her to eat but she couldn't. Ron offers to order take away but she refuses and when Ginny offers to make her something special she tells them all to leave. She appreciates their concern, really, but they're hovering over her like she'll break into a million small pieces if they don't and it's driving her mad.  
>She breaks down again after they leave, sobbing into a pillow that smells exactly like his shampoo. That might make it worse, she thinks...but she doesn't care.<br>The next week is the strangest week she's witnessed in months; she later finds it a bit ironic that a week without 'babysitting' and making sure her boyfriend stays sober is stranger than a week without constantly stressing and worrying over something that ultimately isn't even her problem. But it's weird to her that he isn't around because she isn't used to being alone anymore. She's used to waking up with his head beside her on _his_ pillow and his legs intertwined with hers. She's used to bickering over and playfully pushing each other away from the bathroom sink. She's just used to...HIM, as a whole. Him, just being there in her flat, in her bathroom and in her bed. It's like she's become so accustomed to him being her life, being a part of her routine, that she doesn't know what life is without him. Actually that's not true, she knows exactly what life is like without him. It's boring and it's dull and it's slow and it's lonely. So lonely. Because even though he didn't bring the sunshine to his own life, he brought it into hers. It was in the way he talked and bickered with her, in their intelligent and not-so-intelligent conversations. In the way he smiled and laughed when he was with her; in the way he made her smile and laugh. In the last few weeks of their relationship she had started to see pieces of the old Draco-not the selfish, spoiled brat from their school days, but the sophisticated and fun-loving teenager who pulled pranks (sometimes to hurt people but also just for fun) told jokes and didn't care what anyone thought about him. And that is who she was beginning to fall in love with.  
>And he had walked away from all of it. She knew he wouldn't handle the news about his father very well, she knew that there was a chance of him falling back into the bottle (so to speak) but she didn't think it would end the way it did. She thought that she would be the one to pull him back out, to help him realize (yet again) that he doesn't need the alcohol. She thought that she could through to him. She was wrong. She was so, so wrong.<p>

X

Since the incident in his Mother's garden a week before today, Draco Malfoy hasn't touched a drop of alcohol. Mostly because when he woke up the next morning with a raging headache, a sore body and an upset stomach, he'd decided that he didn't much like being hung over. But it was also because of something Hermione had said the night before.

_We believe in you_.

Nobody, apart from his mother, has ever told him that. And even though he suspected it-hell he felt it radiating off of her sometimes-she'd never said it before. Not like that. And he'd realized that in order for him to get over..._this_...he needed to believe in himself first and foremost. And putting down the bottle for good was the only way he was going to accomplish that. Besides, he was beginning to find that he didn't even need it anymore...he felt no use for it. He did, however, need her. He didn't mean any of what he said to her that night and the only reason he didn't go straight to her the next morning was because not only was he fairly certain that she'd never want to speak to him again, but also because he needed to do this by himself first. He needed to make sure he could stay sober by himself before he dragged her back in, before he hurt her again. He honestly doesn't think he can handle any more of her tears; the completely heartbroken look in her beautiful, soft, brown eyes. He needs to make sure, for her and himself, that he would never hurt her again.  
>Most of what he'd said that night was to push her away, none of it was true. It was to make her think that he didn't care, so that it would be easier for him to walk away, easier for him to watch her walk away. Although he hadn't watched at all, he couldn't bring himself to do so. And the next morning only proved that he was wrong about everything. He needs her-whether he's drunk or sober.<br>He needs her like water.  
>Like the air that he breaths.<br>Because even though he told her that she couldn't save him, she has. And every day she continues to. Every day.

On the morning of his father's execution, after reading an article in the Daily Prophet about it, he decides that as much as he wants to stay far, far away from Azkaban and anything associated with it, including his father, he has to go. Not for his father, not even to see him. But for closure. To come to terms, once and for all, with everything the man had put him through. To prove that he's bigger and stronger than his father _ever_ was. To prove that he isn't his father, that he is his own person and that he can make his own decisions.  
><em>This<em> decision leads him right to Hermione's front door. He walks, giving himself time to think about what he's going to say before he gets there. He hesitates when he arrives and seriously thinks about turning around and walking away before he forces himself to knock. And once he knocks there's no going back. The door opens moments later to reveal a rather...dark looking Hermione Granger. Literally dark. She's wearing all black, except a white tank top underneath her favorite black cardigan and black dress pants. Her cloak, her notices, is hanging on the hook behind her. She's dressed like she's going to a funeral. He almost smiles at the realization. She looks at him, her eyes widening in shock and then narrowing in confusion before she shakes her head and closes the door on him. He sighs, nodding to himself because he had somewhat expected that sort of reaction. He knows she's still on the other side, leaning against the door and waiting for him to knock again. But instead of knocking he waits, leaning against the doorframe. The door opens again seconds later and he grins. "You are so predictable Granger."  
>"W-what are you doing here?" she whispers, looking up at his skeptically, curiously.<br>"Can I come in? We need to talk," he murmurs.  
>"Not until you tell me what this is about."<br>"You. And me. Us, I guess…"  
>She sighs, rolling her eyes as she steps aside to let him in.<p>

He walks past her, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek but she turns away from him. He walks into the living room to find that everything has been changed around. He's not surprised, however, because he knows her and he knows that when she's stressed out about something or another she rearranges things-sometimes over and over again until everything winds up in the exact place it started. He shoves his hands into his jacket pocket and turns to look at her. She's looking at him, as if debating between snogging him senseless and punching his lights out. "You look good…"  
>"Thanks. You...you too," she murmurs.<br>"Where are you going?" he asks casually.  
>"It's none of your business," she replies shortly.<br>It stings a little, the coldness in her voice-the bitterness. But he'd anticipated that on his way over. "I tried to figure out what I was gonna say on my way over here. Didn't work very well..." he chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.  
>"I want you to make an oath. I want you to swear to me that whatever you're about to say is the truth," she demands.<br>"I swear on my Mother's grave that everything I'm about to say is the truth," he responds, not even hesitating.  
>She nods her head, crossing her arms over her chest protectively.<p>

He tilts his, motioning for her to sit on the couch but she shakes her head as tears begin welling in her eyes. "Don't, please don't cry," he whispers. "You have no reason to cry anymore Hermione... W-what I said the other day…about you, and us…none of it was true. I mean the stories about what happened-those were true, and the fact that you shouldn't care and you should've walked away-that was true. But everything else...it was lies," he admits.  
>Hermione blinks furiously, taking his advice to sit down on the couch as her legs begin to shake.<br>"You do know me, you probably know me more than anyone has _ever_ known me. More than myself. And what we had...what we have, it's real. It's true. I lied about lying because I didn't think I deserved you. I wanted you to feel like I wasn't worthy of anything so that you would walk away and I didn't have to. But I need you...I've always needed you," he murmurs,sitting across from her, on the coffee table, and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "I um...I told you once that you're in my head. You're always in my head-your voice, your face. But I never told you the real reason I needed you." He takes her hand, running his thumbs over the top. He then brings it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss against her palm before placing it against his chest directly over his heart. He looks at her directly in the eyes as she blinks back tears. "You're in here, right here. I've never let anyone in here, ever. But with you I didn't really have a choice, did I?" he whispers, looking straight into her eyes.  
>She smiles softly, her lips quivering as a tear trickles down her cheek.<p>

He reaches out to wipe it away, cupping her face in his free hand. "I love you Hermione. And-and I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve a second chance and I sure as hell don't even have the right to ask for one. But I'm selfish, so I'm asking. Just gimme one more chance and I promise I won't ever hurt you again. Just one-"  
>He's thrown into silence when her lips, soft and delicious, crash into his. He freezes, blinking rapidly as her hands grab hold of his jacket and pull him closer. He reacts finally kissing her back eagerly, with so much passion that he thinks it might kill him. He buries his right hand in her hair, cupping his fingers around the base of her neck. She pulls back first, pressing her forehead against his while he attempts to kiss her again, both of then panting.<br>"Are you still drinking?"  
>"I haven't touched anything since you found me in the garden."<br>"You promise?" Her voice is soft, and hesitant. Her breath is warm on his face, and smells like mint chocolate.  
>"I swear."<br>She smiles, really smiles so that it reaches her eyes as she winds her arms around his neck. "I was going to go to the Ministry...to watch the execution."  
>He smirks, pulling back slightly. "Fancy that, so was I."<br>"Really?" She looks surprised.  
>"Well...only if you come <em>with<em> me."  
>"Of course," she smiles.<br>As if on cue the fireplace rumbles and Ginny, Ron and Harry walk through the green flames. All three of them stop dead in their tracks upon seeing the couple before them, wrapped up each other's arms. Ron steps forward first, his ears turning red in anger. "What the hell is he doing here?"  
>Hermione jumps to her feet, pushing back on the redheads chest as he lunges towards the blond, who also jumps to his feet behind her.<br>"Ron it's okay. We-we talked about it and it's okay now," Hermione replies, pushing herself to feet to stand between the hotheaded redhead and the blonde on the couch.  
>"You're sure?" Harry asks skeptically, glaring behind her at Draco.<br>"Positive."  
>Silence falls over the five of them for a brief moment before Ginny steps forward. "Right then, shall we get a move on? Draco, you're coming?"<br>"Yeah," he breathes.

X

The atmosphere in the Azkaban waiting room is cold and dark and utterly uncomfortable. Within minutes of the five of them arriving they're all whisked away, down a long hallway to a door. The door, they find out as a guard wizard opens it, leads to a large, white washed circular room. In the middle of the room was a smaller room encased in clear glass. Around the glass room were four rows of black seats. It's the execution room. When they arrive, all eyes are on them-reporters and journalists and friends and families (some they recognize and some they don't, although they all clearly recognize the five of them) of their loved ones who had been affected by Lucius Malfoy. And they were all present to watch the prisoner in question be executed. Most of the looks they receive are blank and neutral, and some are sympathetic while others are unforgiving. Draco suddenly feels extremely out of place and he used his left hand to pull at his collar as he grabs hold of Hermione's hand with his right. If ever there was a time when he needed her most, now was it. She looks sideways at him, smiling weakly before resting the side of her head on his shoulder.  
>"I have to pee. 'Mione?" Ginny offers, pushing herself to her feet.<br>"Hmm? Oh, yeah." She turns to Draco, whose posture is more rigid than usual. "We'll be right back, okay?"  
>He nods, his gaze trained on the glass room. She kisses his cheek, before walking back out with Ginny. He continues to stare blankly into the glass. Only when Harry claps him on the back does he look away and follow the two male thirds of the Golden Trio further into the room.<p>

Hermione walks out of her own stall towards the sink to find Ginny standing in front of her own sink and adjusting her hair and makeup. "You realize we're attending an execution don't you?" the brunette teases.  
>"Sure, but that doesn't mean that a girl can't look hot, does it?"<br>"True. What about you and Harry?"  
>"Eh…we're taking a break. Sort of," Ginny replies casually, waving it off.<br>"Sort of?"  
>"It's complicated. Anyway, I wanted to ask, what about you and Malfoy? That was rather...sudden," the redhead notes.<br>"I know...but we talked about it-well, he talked about it mostly...and I believe him. There's this look he gets in his eyes when he's telling the truth and I saw it this morning, and then I realized I didn't see it last Sunday," she tells her best girl friend. "He loves me."  
>"Hmm honestly? I think we all could've told you that."<br>"It's gonna be different this time. I know it will," Hermione says confidently.  
>Ginny smiles back. "You know strangely...I think you're right. And I hope you're right. You guys are good for each other."<p>

Moments later, everyone is gathered around the glass room, waiting for the execution to begin. Ron, Harry and Ginny look calm sitting next to Hermione. Draco on the other hand, sitting on the other side of Hermione with her hand clutched in his lap, is just as tense and impatient as he was when the Minister told him of the news. His shoulders are rigid and his left leg is bobbing up and down. He just wants this over and done with. He just wants to go home (preferably Hermione's home), take her to bed and just hold her until the end of time.  
>"Are you okay?" she asks softly.<br>"What's taking them so long? Honestly, how much preparation do you need?" he wonders aloud, quite impatiently.  
>She frowns, rubbing his arm with her free hand. Harry leans forward beside her, glancing sideways at them. "Any minute now Mate."<br>As if in cue, a bell rings above them and the entire world is swallows by silence. Draco's heart starts beating faster than it probably should and his palms begin to sweat tenfold and he holds his breath as a pair of double doors down below, just barely visible to the audience above, open up to reveal a guard. He walks into the glass room and behind him emerges the prisoner, Lucius Malfoy. The distinct sound of chains jingling echoes in Draco's ears; they're wrapped around the prisoner's ankles and wrists. He's wearing a black and white striped jumpsuit and black boots. His hair is longer, so is his beard, and it's dirty and stringy. He's walking with an air of confidence and smugness and Draco feels sick to his stomach knowing that even now, the man can't show some respect and dignity. On either side of him are two more guards and behind all three of them is the executioner, wearing a black mask over his face. The young Malfoy watches as the man he used to call his father is forced into a chair. His wrists and ankles are strapped quickly to the arms and legs of the chair but his head is hanging. The Minister appears then, seemingly out of thin air, announcing the events that are about to take place but Draco doesn't hear him. He's watching his father, staring at the man, willing him to look up. To look at _him_. But he doesn't, he doesn't even try. The minister steps aside then, disappearing into the background as the executioner steps forward, his wand at the ready. Draco jumps to his feet now, startling everyone around him, especially Hermione who looks up at him in shock and wonder. "Wait! Wait…"  
>Everybody looks at him, confused and incredulous. But Draco doesn't notice them, his gaze is glued to the older, spitting image of himself.<br>"Look at me!" His voice is loud enough for the entire room to hear, but it's directed at one man and the entire room knows this. "I SAID LOOK AT ME YOU _SICK_ SON OF A BITCH!"  
>Hermione attempts to grab him and hold him back but he's faster. He slips away from her and lunges towards the glass separating all of them from <em>him<em>. He bangs his fists against the glass, making the entire wall shake and bounce. Everybody watches, too shocked to do or say anything. "I'm your son for fucks sake, LOOK AT ME!" he bellows.  
>He bangs on the glass again. That seems to do it because seconds later, the eldest living Malfoy (although not for long) finally looks up, his gaze directed straight at his son. His face his blank and his eyes are empty. There's nothing there, no anger, no despair, no sorrow or regret. No love, for his son.<br>That's all the closure Draco needs. He nods, backing away from the glass and for a split second Lucius' jaw trembles as though he's about to say something and his left hand twitches but it's gone just as quickly. Draco turns on his heel and leaves the room before the executioner even has a chance to recompose himself.

He's in the waiting room, staring out a window at the moving sea when a pair of warm, familiar arms wrap around his waist. She presses her forehead against his shoulder blade and he pulls one hand out of his pocket to run his fingers along her forearm.  
>"Are you okay?" she whispers.<br>"Yeah. Yeah, never better," he smiles, turning around to face her. He brings both hands up, cupping his fingers around the base of her neck as her strokes her cheeks with his thumbs and places a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you."  
>"For what?" she asks, looking at him in confusion.<br>"Saving me. I honestly didn't think you could do it."  
>"Guess that'll teach you, huh?" She smiles cheekily.<br>"Oh it has, plenty. Never underestimate Hermione Granger. Never defy Hermione Granger. Never say 'no' to Hermione Granger. Never-"  
>She cuts him off, pressing her lips against his fast and hard. Just as he goes to deepen it she pulls back, smiling innocently.<br>"Minx.. ." he pouts.  
>"I love you," she says suddenly.<br>He blinks once. And then twice. And then he opens his mouth to say it back but nothing comes out. He blinks again, shakes his head and then tries again. "What?"  
>"I love you."<br>He grins, pressing his forehead against hers. And suddenly, just hearing those three words on _her_ lips, are well worth not being able to deepen her kiss.  
>He's pretty sure she'd never have to say it again now, because even just once is enough. He's also pretty sure that if she would tell him so every day, it'd sound just as beautiful as the first time.<p>

Fin.


End file.
